


Sir Percival's Choices

by MsPercival



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthurian, Battle, Brotherly Love, Camelot, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Loss, Fatherhood, Festivals, Friendship, Gwaine - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Het, Implied Sexual Content, Infertility, Love, Male Friendship, Romance, Sir Percival - Freeform, True Love, knights of camelot, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 88,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7078255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPercival/pseuds/MsPercival
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Camelot’s castle training field, a young boy accosts Sir Percival and all but demands sword fighting lessons. Little does Percival know this boy will change his life in many wonderful ways. (Canon AU/some canon divergence)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Here!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A moment in the Merlin series that really touched me occurred during season four, episode one, "The Darkest Hour," when Percival steps in and saves those three terrified little children from the Dorocha. I found that scene to be a defining moment for Percival, one where his selflessness and gentle heart became apparent. 
> 
> As the show went on, I often wondered, “What happened to those children?” This story features one of the children, Rion (I gave him that name, and have decided to make him a little older for the purpose of this tale). Little Rion is about to take Percival on an unexpected journey, one full of heartbreak and hope, and eventually, love. 
> 
> This story – focusing on Sir Percival and told from his perspective – begins roughly nine months after the Dorocha laid siege to Camelot, in between seasons four and five, or what I refer to as the lost years. 
> 
> Further, just so you are aware, this story contains several OCs, some of them as main characters. I know that’s not for everyone, so I wanted to make sure you knew. 
> 
> Lastly, this story will be about 70-75k words long, or, about 25-ish chapters. Then again, I have been known to run over. And the plan is to post chapters once or twice weekly. Plans, of course, can change.

Chapter 1 – I'm Here!

"Sir Percival, Sir Percival, I'm here, I'm here! I have my own sword and everything!"

On a stifling summer morning in Camelot, Sir Percival turned and saw a little boy, about age five or six, bounding toward him. The young boy's shaggy brown hair bounced as he raced forward, and his cheeks were flushed bright pink due to exertion.

Only a few paces away from Percival now, the little boy tripped over the too-large sword he carried, and the weapon went sailing into the air. Percival was forced to duck to avoid the flying projectile. Meanwhile, the child stumbled forward and collapsed on the castle training field face first at Percival's feet.

"Friend of yours?" asked Sir Gwaine, Percival's best mate and fellow Knight of Camelot. He shucked off his sweaty padded gambeson and chuckled. The rest of the knights had retreated into the castle after quarterstaff training, but Percival and Gwaine lingered beneath the shade of a tall oak tree.

"The boy seems a little dangerous with that flying sword and all," added Gwaine with a grin.

Percival ignored Gwaine and helped the boy up. Sir Percival towered above most people, and this child barely came up to Percival's hip.

"Hello." Percival took a knee on the grass so he was closer to eye level with the wild–haired child. There was something familiar about the boy. "What brings you here?"

The child's face fell. "You don't remember me, Sir Percival?"

Percival tried to recall where he might have seen the boy, but nothing came to mind. Meanwhile, the little boy's chin wobbled with distress and his dark brown eyes reddened. Percival had to come up with something.

"I believe we met in the market once." Percival hoped that would suffice. After all, everyone in Camelot went to the market at one time or another, and children often approached the knights to ask questions or touch the men's cloaks and chainmail.

The little boy smiled and his head bobbed up and down with enthusiasm. "Yes! I didn't know you saw me there. But the first time we met was when you saved me, my sister, and neighbor from the Dorocha. Do you remember that?" The boy puffed out his chest and stood up taller. "But I'm bigger now and ready to learn to use the sword."

Now Percival recognized the child before him. This past Samhain, the deadly Dorocha – spirits from the Other World – laid siege to the kingdom of Camelot after the High Priestess Morgana had torn a hole in the veil between the world of the dead and the world of the living. A single, glancing touch from the Dorocha was fatal. Percival recalled that night.

XXXX

Percival had been out on patrol during a late-night Dorocha attack and found three small children hiding behind a barrel, wide-eyed, terrified expressions etched on their round little faces. If he left them, they stood no chance of survival. So he dropped the only weapon that kept the ghostly Dorocha at bay – a lit torch. The Dorocha couldn't tolerate the warmth of fire. However, that left Percival completely defenseless against these airborne spirits, and he knew he'd have to run faster than he ever had in his life. With three children wrapped in his arms, racing to safety would be no easy task. Even so, he grabbed up the little ones and ran like the wind.

But the Dorocha flew through the air faster than lightning. Percival did not turn to look at their gaunt, skeleton-like faces, but their bone-chilling shrieks met his ears, and their cold presence bore down on him.

These spirits killed by freezing people with blasts of hazy, frigid breath. Percival wondered what it would be like to die in such a way. Would it be instantaneous, or would he and the children suffer? He hoped the former.

The little children in his arms began to weep for their mothers. He didn't blame the poor things. If his mother had still been alive, Percival would have been crying for her, too. Instead, it appeared as if he was about to join her forthwith.

"Don't worry, we'll get to your mum," panted Percival to the children. He realized that was an outright lie, but these little ones deserved to be comforted in their final moments.

Summoning his final reserve of energy, Percival hurtled ahead. Perhaps if he moved with more speed, something else would catch the Dorochas' attention and he and the children would be safe. This notion was a fantasy, probably, but he clung to the idea. It was all he had left.

The Dorochas' blood-curdling shrieks grew louder, right in Percival's ear now, and the sharp cold gnawed at his very bones. He braced himself for death and chastised himself for not protecting these innocent children better. He only hoped that their travel to the Other Word would be easy. He'd guide the little ones, he would...

Yet death did not arrive.

With great speed and determination, Sir Elyan, Queen Guinevere's brother, rushed forth and waved his blazing torch at the Dorocha; the spirits fled.

The knights exchanged no words right then. Elyan collected one child from Percival's arms and Percival followed his comrade. Clearly, Elyan knew where these little ones lived. Following a quick jog, Percival and Elyan kicked open a cottage door, and the children's parents screamed with relief, their arms open wide and ready to receive their precious little ones.

Once the children were locked safely in their parents' embraces, Percival faced Elyan and smiled. No words seemed adequate, so he settled on something simple: "Thank you."

"Couldn't let you have all the glory, could I?" said Elyan with a playful smirk.

Percival would never be able to thank Elyan enough.

XXXX

"Uh, Percival?"

Gwaine's words snapped Percival out of his contemplative state.

"Oh, sorry about that," said Percival, still down on his knee before the little boy.

"You DO remember that night with the Dorocha, don't you, Sir Percival?" asked the boy, his eyes wide and eager.

"Yes, of course I do. It's just you've grown so much and are so big and strong, I didn't recognize you right away." He reached out and ruffled the boy's hair. "You're Rion, right?"

Rion hopped up and down. "Yes! Yes, I am. You DO remember me! Mum said you wouldn't and that I should leave you alone, but I told her you _would_."

"I remember you and your neighbor and sister. How are they doing?"

"They're fine. My sister's a pest, but fine."

"And your mum and father? They were so happy to have you home safe."

Rion peered down at the grass. "Mum's good. But Father... he died. He died a month ago."

What terrible news. Having been orphaned when he was a boy, Percival understood the pain of losing a parent, or in his case, both. He pulled Rion into a hug.

"I'm sorry, little mate. What happened to your father?"

"He got a bad fever, and it didn't go away and he died. Mum's very sad." Rion stepped back from the embrace and lifted his chin. "But I'm the oldest and I must protect the family now. That's why I'm here. I'll be seven soon and I need to learn to defend them. You can teach me." Rion rummaged in his belt pouch while chewing on his lip in concentration. He withdrew an old, bent coin, one that hadn't been used as currency in Camelot for ages, and held it out to Percival. "I can even pay you!"

Percival tried not to smile. "And where did you get that coin?"

"I sold two cabbages from the garden. And a carrot."

The poor little boy had been swindled. What kind of man would do such a thing to a desperate child?

"To whom did you sell your vegetables?" asked Percival, planning to give this buyer a stern talking-to.

"The neighbor girl. She's five, I think."

Percival relaxed after hearing this. No foul play, then, just children trying their best. But the fact that children here in the "Golden City" of Camelot struggled had to be taken into consideration. Percival would speak with King Arthur.

"I have an idea," said Percival. "Why don't we trade coins and I'll give you three sword lessons. Does that sound good to you?"

"Hey, wait just a moment!" Gwaine offered with feigned annoyance, stepping forward, brushing a lock of wavy dark hair out of his eyes. "I want in on this, too. I am one of the king's finest swordsmen, you realize."

The little boy's mouth dropped open and he pointed. "I know who you are! You're Sir Gwaine, and you are the best with the sword! I saw you at a tournament and you brought down two men at once. Father took me to watch that day. He said you're a ladies' man, but I don't understand what that means. Is that good?"

Unable to suppress his laugh, Percival turned to face his friend and asked, "Yes, Gwaine, is that good?"

Gwaine, not normally one to become flustered, blushed a fierce shade of red beneath his beard.

"Well, um, it's all really… Never mind about that!" insisted Gwaine. "Let's talk about the sword instead."

"Sir Gwaine," said Rion, his tone serious, "I like you very much, but I need Sir Percival to train me. On the night he saved us from the Dorocha, he promised me he'd teach me to be a warrior, and that's what I want. Sir Percival remembers. Right, Sir Percival?"

Percival didn't recall saying any such thing. However, he'd been so relieved to survive and save those innocent children, he might have promised Rion a castle of pure gold for all he could remember. And this little boy wouldn't make up such a thing. Percival must have alluded to some type of training, but the word "warrior" seemed a little extreme.

Still, Rion gave off an air of kindness and exuberance. The little boy wanted nothing more than to defend his family. Three sword lessons was insufficient; it was Percival's duty to train this boy.

"Yes, yes, I remember talking about warrior training," fibbed Percival. "And three sword lessons will not do. You must train with me for one year, and if you're committed and do your very best, we can extend training. How does that sound?"

Rion hopped up and down like a manic mountain hare and turned red in the face. "I have to pee." He crossed his legs. "When I get excited, it happens."

"On second thought, he's all yours, Percival," said Gwaine with a laugh.

Flustered, Percival stood up. "Ah, all right, I'll walk you over to the woods and you can take care of your business there."

"I have to pee real, read bad." Rion grabbed Percival's hand and nearly dragged him toward the woods.

While Percival and the little boy raced off to the trees, Gwaine cackled with amusement in the background. Several feet away from the actual woods, it appeared as if Rion could no longer wait, because he pulled at the knots securing his trousers, but they wouldn't loosen.

"I can't get them undone," whined Rion with frustration.

What was Percival to do? Allow this little boy to piss himself? He bent down and fussed with Rion's trouser ties, but they were knotted up like he'd never seen.

"Who helped you dress this morning?" Percival fumbled with the tight knots, hoping Rion could hold it for at least another moment.

"I dressed myself. I tried to tie up my trousers nice and tight…"

By the time Percival untangled the last knot, it was too late. Rion, no longer able to wait, wet himself. With a gasp or horror and tears, Rion spun around and fled the training field.

"Rion, wait!" Percival called out, then started to jog after him. Gwaine caught up.

"What in the demon is going on here?" asked Gwaine.

"The boy, um, wet himself."

"What's the problem? I think I wet myself last week after a long night of drinking at the tavern…"

"That goes to show a boy of six has more self-respect than you."

Fast on his feet, Rion was already halfway down Main Road when Percival called out: "Rion, stop!"

"No, Sir Percival!" The boy would not slow down. "I'm disgraced!"

Gwaine started laughing again as he ran alongside Percival. "He's disgraced, he says. The poor boy."

Percival slowed to a walk and encouraged Gwaine to do the same. On Percival's first day of training as one of King Arthur's knights, Gwaine had accidentally hit Percival over the head with a mace. Percival had been knocked out cold, and when he came to, apparently, he'd babbled a bunch of nonsense about a fluffy pink blanket.

He'd rather have pissed himself, because years later, the men never let him live that one down. Yes, Percival understood what it was to endure public humiliation, and to make a fool of oneself in front of respected men.

"I'll call on him at home later," Percival told Gwaine. "Let him get changed and cleaned up first. I'll make sure he knows it's all right."

"Tell him I pissed myself last week!" said Gwaine cheerfully. "If Camelot's best swordsman can wet himself, a six-year-old can without shame. Or tell him about your fluffy pink blanket. If a giant, strapping warrior like you has a pink blanket…"

"Forever the pink blanket," Percival muttered under his breath.

"Easy there, tall one. I'm only fooling around. Don't get all upset with me. And besides, why are you doing this? You don't have to train the boy. I mean, be nice and give him a lesson or two, but to commit to a year's training and beyond's a little mad."

Percival turned and headed back toward the castle; Gwaine followed.

"I realize I don't _have_ to," said Percival, his voice tight, "but perhaps I want to. The boy's father just died. Rion needs a man in his life to show him how things are done."

"Like Owen did for you?"

There was no malice in Gwaine's voice, but the words still stung. Owen (now deceased) had been Percival's foster father. After Percival's parents and sister had been murdered by the merciless King Cenred's men, Owen sheltered and cared for Percival. Old Owen did his best, but the man was already feeble and slow by the time he took in eight-year-old Percival, and could not give Percival the one thing he craved – lessons on how to be a fighter. After his family's death, he often felt all alone in the world, and believed becoming skilled in combat would give him an edge and keep him safe.

But Owen had taught Percival much: reading, writing, mathematics, and farming. Yet Percival still had to learn fighting skills on his own, and at a much older age than he would have liked. By the time he summoned the nerve to ask for fighting lessons from the various ne'er-do-wells who frequented the village tavern, Percival was already twelve years old, and most boys had started grappling at age eight or nine.

However, since Percival was already so tall and muscular at that point, the tavern-men got a kick out of teaching him to fight, and watching him take on men three times his age. Often, the drunkards made bets on the fights, which Percival typically won. He didn't like it, and had never been over fond of being the center of attention, but it was the only way to learn.

"Owen tried, Gwaine. He really did. And besides, he was the only one willing to take me in. What if he hadn't?"

"I'd be running about with a different best mate, probably, maybe one who'd channel a few more women my way…"

Gwaine gave Percival a good-natured shove as they walked, and Percival smiled.

"You have plenty of women. You don't need my help there."

"But _more_ would be nice."

"More mead and women and you'll be dead," said Percival.

"But what a way to go!"

Both men chuckled as they approached the castle; Percival faced Gwaine at the foot of the tall stone staircase.

"And about Rion… I will train the boy, Gwaine, because it's the right and honorable thing to do."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – A Concerning Visit

Percival waited until late in the afternoon to visit Rion, allowing the boy plenty of time to clean up, collect himself, and hopefully feel less humiliated by the goings-on that had occurred earlier that morning.

In his haste to run away, Rion had left his sword on the castle training field. As Percival strode down to the boy's cottage, he examined the weapon. The blade wasn't bad, a little pitted and dull, perhaps, and the balance wasn't perfect, but it was a serviceable weapon, adequate to defend one's property and livestock. However, the sword was far too large for a boy of six. Boys of that age needed to start out with smaller, wooden weapons until they became surer of their footing and their coordination improved. Percival planned to tell Rion's mother to keep the sword far away from the child for at least the next few years.

Percival recalled Rion's home sat at the end of Main Road, shielded from the sun by several ancient oak trees. He approached the small cottage and smiled. This would be a pleasant place to grow up, one where a boy might climb the towering trees and look out across the Lower Town, or rest in the shade after a hard morning of chores and playing. But without a father, the pain of loss would always linger in the background.

Percival paused beneath the tree shade for a moment and took in the home's appearance. Someone had taken their time to build the structure. The wattle-and-daub home was small, but carefully built with clean, even lines and extra-large windows. However, upon closer inspection, Percival noticed signs of neglect. Weeds choked the vegetable garden and it smelled as if the pig enclosure had not been mucked out sufficiently. He peered up and spotted a gap in the thatch roof close to the smoke hole. The next time it rained, the interior of the home would get soaked for sure.

Immediately, Percival understood what was happening – this widow was overcome by her duties of having to care for the home, small plot of surrounding land, and two young children. Why was her family not helping? And if she had no family, the neighbors should pitch in. This was unacceptable.

He straightened his tunic and approached the door, nervous for some reason, and knocked. Percival heard a little girl's sing-song voice, then a child's head popped out of the front window. The tiny dark-haired girl gasped upon seeing Percival, and drew her head back inside.

"Mum, there's a real big man outside – real big, _scary_ big – and he's carrying a sword! Bolt the door!" the girl cried. "He might be a Saxon!"

"Dee, stop shouting," came a woman's firm but kind voice. "He's not a Saxon; believe me. A Saxon wouldn't bother knocking."

Moments later, a young woman with mousy brown hair pulled back into a haphazard bun stuck her head and shoulders out the window. She appeared to be in her early twenties – the same age as Percival – and she wore a black mourning dress. "May I help you, sir?"

"Yes," said Percival. "Your son came to see me earlier about sword lessons and inadvertently left behind his sword. I'm Sir Percival… I'm not sure if you remember me –"

The woman had already drawn her head back into the house and flung open the front door.

"Sir Percival!" She flung her arms around him. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you right away. The details of that awful Dorocha attack are a little hazy in my memory." She squeezed him tighter. "I never had the chance to thank you properly for saving my babies. I didn't feel it was right for me to turn up at the castle and thank you, but I should have sent a note, or a gift, something to show my appreciation."

The woman didn't let go, and Percival, unsure of what to do, stood stock-still for several moments before loosening up and patting the woman on her head. She was short, but then again, just about everyone was short compared to him.

"It was my pleasure, I assure you."

Finally, the woman released Percival from the hug. "That other knight? Sir Elyan? I'd like to thank him as well."

"He's away on a mission at the moment, I'm afraid. Not due back for some time."

"I see. I'll be sure to call on him when he returns." She reached up and patted her messy hair. "You caught me at a bad time… I haven't put on my mourning cap yet, but there's always so much to do. Please come inside, won't you?"

"Thank you." He ducked and stepped into the home. "Is Rion here?"

The woman busied herself at the pantry as Percival stood by the door and took in the interior of the cottage. Things were not going well for this family. The mother was trying, clearly, as evidenced by the spotless and organized state of the home, but there were signs of poverty all around. Percival noticed when the mother walked, the soles of her worn shoes flopped open. And there was one chair, a tiny, rickety dining table, and very little cookware or plates out in the open. There were no beds, just straw on pallets – that was the case for many families – however, Percival saw one suitable blanket and one threadbare sheet. The home had an abandoned air.

He turned and smiled at the little girl who sat in the corner braiding a straw mat. Her clothing was clean, but thin and shabby. During a warm summer, that was one thing, but what would she do once winter time came?

"Rion ran in and said he was disgraced, then ran out," announced the little girl, not looking up from her weaving work. "He babbled something I couldn't hear and left.

"I'm five years old, by the way."

"Are you? That's a fine age."

Unsure of what else to say, Percival turned to the mother. She held a cracked wooden tray bearing a sliced loaf of brown bread and two meager chunks of cheese.

"Please have a seat," she said.

_A seat?_ thought Percival. _The one seat in the house?_

"Oh, I'd much rather sit on the floor. I find it more comfortable. But first, let me put away your sword."

He approached a tall shelf and slid the sword onto it, well out of reach of eager little hands. Percival then settled himself close to the daughter; he took a seat upon the tightly-woven rushes situated on the cottage's dirt floor.

"You're Dee, right?" he asked the girl.

She nodded her head. "I know all about you. I don't remember you saving us, but brother talks about you all the time."

The mother finally took a seat on the floor next to Percival. She poured out a single mug of water, then handed Percival a slice of bread with cheese on top. As far as Percival could see, no other drinking vessel was available, and he felt awful drinking from the mug, but didn't want to draw more attention to the privation so obvious around him. He took a small sip and bit into the stale piece of bread. Dismay struck Percival when he realized this was all the food the family might have for the day, and here he was, eating it.

"Yes, Rion's been a little obsessed with you ever since you saved him," said the mother with a smile. "I tried to hold him off from bothering you for as long as I could, but these days…" She didn't finish her sentence.

Percival chewed the gritty, sour cheese and dry bread and swallowed. "It's no bother at all; that's what I came here to discuss with you. And I'm sorry, but I don't recall your name."

"Idele. And please call me that. No need for formality."

"All right, Idele. Your son came to me today and asked for sword lessons. I think it would be an excellent idea. He's fit and fast… sharp and enthusiastic. I'd like to train him, if you'd allow me. I told him we would start out with a year commitment –"

"Sir Percival," interrupted Idele, "I don't want to be rude, but I have the sense you're doing this out of pity. Please don't. I am sure your schedule is quite full and taking on training a young boy would be too much for you."

Was that the issue, then? The woman didn't want to accept help?

"No, it's not too much. I have enough time available for your son. Many knights take on squires and train them."

That was a small fib. Percival knew of one knight currently training a squire, and that knight was older and ready to retire from service. Normally, King Arthur recruited young men and trained them in groups, so there was no longer a need for individual knights to take on squires. It wasn't unheard of, just not common practice these days.

"Also," said Percival, "it's better to start the boys young before they develop bad habits. Six is a good age." Was it? He had no idea.

Idele swallowed hard and peered down at her uneaten bread and cheese. She stood up and handed the morsels over to Dee, who gobbled them down as if it was the only meal she'd eaten all day.

Percival took a moment to study Idele more closely. Her dark dress hung off her frame as if she'd lost a good deal of weight recently, and Percival had the impression she didn't have much weight to spare in the first place. Also, she might have been pretty, if her face hadn't been so drawn and milk-white.

"Sir Percival, I cannot afford to pay you. As you can see" – she waved her hand around, drawing his attention to the emptiness in the room – "we're struggling here…"

"I think you're doing a fine job." He rose and laid his uneaten portion of bread and cheese on the crooked table. He couldn't eat any more when he knew this family was hungry. Someone would consume the rest later. Percival turned back around and faced Idele again.

"It's not payment I seek. At age twenty-two, I'm not married, and I don't see that changing any time soon." He chuckled. "I'd like to leave behind a legacy, if possible, and if your son turned out to be a Knight of Camelot and one day told people: 'Sir Percival trained me up!' that's all the payment I need."

"Are you certain?" Idele sounded hesitant.

"Very certain."

"Well…"

Right then, the front door flew open and Rion rushed in wearing clean, dry trousers. When he saw Percival, his mouth dropped open with shock. Rion then swung his head around and gaped at his mother.

"Mum, I didn't mean to… Before, it was… When I saw Sir Percival…"

Percival caught Rion's eye and shook his head back and forth a fraction, hoping the little boy understood the meaning: _Don't tell your mum about the trouser-wetting!_ Idele didn't need to hear the details of Rion's embarrassing moment from earlier in the day. The boy should be allowed to maintain a shred of dignity in front of his mother. Rion seemed to understand, because he snapped his mouth shut immediately.

"Your son left before we had the chance to discuss the details of training," said Percival. "I'd wanted to tell him that we would start out tomorrow with stretching, running, and swerving around obstacles. Developing fitness and footwork is how all warriors must start. After a week of that, we move on to swimming and strength training."

"Swimming?" asked Idele, her eyes wide.

"It's very important for a knight," said Percival with a nod of his head. "Being a good swimmer often means the difference between life and death. It opens up escape routes, if necessary, it builds stamina, and creates advantages during battles and rescues."

"But taking my son out into the lake sounds dangerous."

"I happen to be an excellent swimmer," Percival assured her, "and on those days, I'll have my friend Gwaine with me to help. Especially at first."

"Oh, Sir Gwaine," said Idele with a tone of disdain, and Percival chuckled at her reaction. Women tended to respond to the name "Gwaine" in one of two ways, either with affection or dismay.

"I promise you, he's a good man."

"I don't know about all this…" said Idele, and Rion flung himself at his mum's feet.

"Please, Mum, please! I want to do this very much." From Rion's position on the ground, he wrapped his arms around his mum's ankles and looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Father would have wanted this for me."

Idele softened. It seemed as if hearing about her departed husband's wants affected her deeply.

"Rion, I want to make sure you're safe."

"But I will be!" insisted the little boy. "You can't get any safer than when you're with a Knight of Camelot!"

"I know, Rion," said Idele with a sigh. "But if you need special equipment or clothing, we simply can't pay for it right now."

"Don't concern yourself with that," said Percival. "There are always spare clothes and training weapons around the castle." Not for a six-year-old boy, but that was beside the point. "But he wouldn't need any real weapons for quite some time. We'll start out with wooden practice swords, and I own several myself." He didn't, but he'd acquire them.

Idele smiled down at her son. "Stand up, will you?" While Rion jumped up, Idele glanced at Percival. "Can he try it out for a week? If you tell me he's doing well, I'll agree to the training."

"Yay!" cheered Rion, hugging his mum.

"That's a fair plan," said Percival with a grin. "I have to return to the castle now, but might I have a word with Rion outside before I go?"

Idele agreed, and Percival ushered the boy outside. Percival walked with Rion to the back of the yard, close to the pig enclosure and out of Idele's earshot.

"Rion, does your mum have help?" asked Percival.

"Yes. I help lots. So does Dee."

"Anyone else?"

Rion shook his head. "Mum doesn't want to be a bother. She worries a lot about that, about being an impetition, I think?"

"Imposition," Percival corrected. "But what about family? Any who live close by?"

Another shake of the head. "An aunt, but she lives a half-day away. And she's not very nice."

A light breeze blew, and the scent of acrid pig urine assaulted Percival's senses. He couldn't leave without doing something about these pigs.

"Have you been mucking out the pigs?" asked Percival.

"Yes! Each day! I try to keep up, but they're so messy."

True. This was too big a job for one little boy to keep up with.

"And Mum helped yesterday," added Rion, "but she worked too hard and got dizzy and had to sit down."

Concerning. Very concerning.

"All right." Percival inclined his head toward the pig enclosure. "We should get to it, then. Let's muck out the pigs."

Percival and Rion finished the job quickly, and Percival found himself enjoying spending time with the boy, even during laborious work. But the whole time, Percival tried to think up ways he might make life a little easier for this family. He had plenty of money. He wasn't rich by anyone's standards, but he had little use for gold and silver pieces these days, other than to pay for the occasional meal and drinks at the Rising Sun Tavern, or perhaps new boots. However, on a whim, Percival _had_ purchased those butter-soft sheets and a thick fur blanket. He hadn't spent that much in years, and he suddenly felt guilty for purchasing something so decadent when others struggled to eat.

But Percival couldn't just hand over money; Idele would never accept it and would likely be insulted. He must come up with another way.

After Percival and Rion mucked out the last section of the enclosure and spread out fresh hay, they went down to the well for a drink of water.

"That was hard work," said Rion after quenching his thirst. He sniffed his armpit. "I think I stink."

Percival, trying to bite back a laugh, choked on his water. "You cannot stink! You're six. _I_ stink." Percival didn't need to sniff his armpit to pick up on the stench… it was obvious.

"Can you bend down?" asked Rion.

Percival bent down low in front of Rion, and Rion stuck his face in Percival's armpit and took a good long sniff. The boy stumbled back and pretended to gag.

"You DO smell terrible!" Rion declared. "But I want to smell like you."

"Oh gods, why would you want that?"

"Because _you_ smell like a man and _I_ want to smell like a man."

Percival ruffled the boy's hair. "Don't wish your childhood away, Rion. You have plenty of years left before you start stinking."

They said their goodbyes; Rion headed for home and Percival for the castle. Percival moved at a slow jog. He needed to ask Gwaine for advice on what to do about Rion's family. Now.


	3. A Secret Delivery

Chapter 3 – A Secret Delivery

Percival had spent more time down at Rion's cottage than he intended, and after mucking out the pig pen, he was ravenous. Unfortunately, supper wouldn't be served in the Dining Hall until after sunset, and if he had to wait that long for nourishment, he might starve. Not really, but with his stomach rumbling, it sure felt that way.

Percival had the appetite of a war horse, and Gwaine never let him forget it. During supper last week, when Percival took a third helping of roast parsnips, Gwaine made a loud comment in front of all the men (including King Arthur) about how much Percival ate.

"Good gods, Percival, the cooks will need a second garden to keep up with your appetite!" bellowed Gwaine. "There won't be a parsnip left in the kingdom."

Normally, Percival would have ignored Gwaine or laughed off the harmless comment. Yet that night, Percival, tired of being the butt of Gwaine's jokes, fired back.

"I eat more than you because I am twice your size," said Percival. "Meaning I am twice your size _everywhere_."

It took a moment for the men to catch on, then the knights roared with laughter. For once, Percival felt as if he'd won an exchange with Gwaine. Gwaine rolled his eyes and drank from his tankard. Percival waited for the counter-attack, but none came.

Later, they'd both apologized to one another. That was how their friendship went – push, pull, give, take. Though neither man would say it aloud, they regarded each other as brothers, and Percival trusted Gwaine with his life. Therefore, Gwaine was the first person Percival thought of when it came to needing advice regarding Rion's family.

Percival trudged up the stairs to the knights' wing of the castle; Gwaine's chamber was right down the hall from his. As he approached Gwaine's door, he breathed in the mouthwatering aroma of roast pork floating down the hallway. Whether it was in a pie, stew, or a simple slab, it didn't matter, because if Percival didn't get his hands on food, he would perish. He'd make his visit with Gwaine a quick one.

Yet before Percival had the chance to knock, Gwaine's door flew open.

"There you are!" Gwaine grabbed Percival by the front of his tunic and dragged him into the room. "I, um, borrowed three pork pies from the kitchen and I wanted to share my good fortune…" Gwaine wrinkled his nose and pulled a face of disgust. "Damn, you smell like arse! What have you been doing?"

"Mucking out pigs. Long story. Can we please eat first? I'm dying of hunger."

“Yes, but keep your arms at your sides. I don’t want to smell your stench.”

"Says the man whose socks often stink as if they've been sitting in the belly of a dead horse for a month."

Gwaine took a seat at his dining table and possessively pulled all three pies close to him. "I don't have to share…"

"Fine, I'll do whatever you say if you let me eat!"

Percival took a seat and the men scooped the flaky pies stuffed with browned meat into their mouths. They didn't stop eating until all three pies were gone, crumbs and all. But the moment Percival leaned back in his chair and reflected on the delicious meal, shame niggled at the back of his mind. He'd just wolfed down a large and proper meal while Rion's family subsisted on little more than bread and cheese. And when it came time to slaughter one of the pigs, who would do that? One woman alone couldn't manage, nor could she butcher and preserve without help. Perhaps she'd sell them…

"Percival? What's the problem?" asked Gwaine. "You have that look, the one where you're thinking too hard and preparing to get involved in something you shouldn't."

"That's not true!"

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "It _is_ true." He shoved away the empty pie plates, leaned back, and rested his boots up on the table. "Go on, I'm listening. The wise and all-knowing Gwaine is here to help."

If Percival hadn't needed Gwaine's advice, Percival would have stood up, thanked Gwaine for the (delicious) food, and left. But, unable to figure out a reasonable solution to the Rion-problem on his own, he gave in.

"All right, here's the situation – I went to visit Rion's mother before –"

Gwaine's eyes widened with surprise at that statement. "What kind of visit was it? The kind where…"

"Oh, gods, Gwaine! It's not like that! I didn't go there for _that_. What I was saying is that Rion's family is struggling. There's hardly any furniture or crockery – I assume the mum sold most of it – there's not enough food, their clothing's worn, the roof has a hole, she can't keep up with the property… Rion said they don't have help, and even if it was offered, the mum, Idele, would fight against it anyway."

Gwaine gave a low whistle. "That's bad, but I have an idea."

"What?" Percival hoped this wasn't one of Gwaine's wild schemes that would end up with one of them hurt or clapped in irons in the dungeons.

"We take up a collection," said Gwaine. "Some courtiers here have more money and possessions than they know what to do with. If their precious mug gets a scratch, they buy a new one. It doesn't sound as if Rion's mother would accept money, but if we drop off a few packages discreetly in the middle of the night, she'd never know whom it was from. What sort of things do they need again?"

"Clothes, blankets, cookware, furniture, firewood, and food, definitely food. But that's not all. She needs help, Gwaine. Her roof needs fixing, the pigs need to be tended to…"

"Slow down. One thing at a time." Gwaine dropped his feet from the table and stood. "We should start up the collection now, but first, I can add a few things myself." He crossed to his wardrobe and dug around, then began to fling clothing over his shoulder onto the floor. "Here's a woman's cloak, two shawls, a corset – that might not be proper to hand over – a few pairs of woolen socks…"

"I do not want to know how these things came into your possession."

"Right. Best not to discuss it."

By the end of Gwaine's wardrobe cleanout, there appeared to be enough clothing to dress Idele for a week. The fact that Gwaine was, as Rion pointed out, "a ladies' man" had paid off.

"We should head to the castle nursery next," said Gwaine. "Children grow out of clothes all the time, don't they? I'm sure they'll have something for the boy. And he has a sister, right?"

"Yes, Dee. But why the sudden interest in all this?"

"I know what it's like to grow up destitute," said Gwaine.

That Gwaine did. Gwaine's father, a knight, had died in battle, and when Gwaine's mother had gone to their king for help, the man turned her away without a thought.

Percival and Gwaine set out to collect goods, and close to the bedtime hour, they'd stacked up more furniture, clothing, cookware and food than they could possibly deliver in ten trips. They arranged everything in Percival's quarters.

"Good haul." Gwaine eyed the huge stack. "Now, about the money we collected…"

Not everyone handed over goods or food. For the most part, knights led pretty simple lives, especially the single men, and few had clothing or furniture to spare. Instead, they insisted on contributing money.

"For the time being, we'll hold onto the coins until we can figure out what to do with them. We can always keep them in reserve for the children, or buy things we think they need," said Gwaine. He stared at the pile again. "In the meantime, we need to make a covert delivery tonight. Let's pick through this mountain and figure out what they need the most."

"All right. Food first, then a few good blankets, crockery, and if we find a decent pair of women's shoes in there, that'll be a good start."

Percival and Gwaine picked and sorted through the pile. Once they had all the necessary goods for a delivery set aside, Percival realized it was far too much to carry down in their arms and drop off in front of the door.

"This'll take too many trips and draw far too much attention," said Percival, eyeing the pile dubiously.

Gwaine waved off Percival's concerns. "I have it all figured out. You sort more and I'll be right back."

Percival did as instructed, digging around for compact pieces of crockery and cookware, smaller loaves of bread, and jars of fruit jam. Yet he wondered what idea Gwaine had come up with for the delivery. He wouldn't put it past Gwaine to lead a pack horse up the interior castle stairs. That would be quite the sight.

As it turned out, Gwaine returned shortly thereafter bearing a simple yet brilliant item – a stretcher.

"I may have doubted you from time to time," said Percival, "but this is an excellent idea."

Gwaine placed the stretcher down on the floor and loaded it up. "Recall my brilliance the next time you want to harass me. But the truth is Gaius suggested this. I asked him where I could find a wheelbarrow, and he mentioned dragging a filled wheelbarrow up and down several flights of stairs would land us in the infirmary. I'm afraid I can't take the credit."

Percival grinned and helped load up the stretcher. Of course, Gaius, the trusted and wise Court Physician, came up with the solution.

"Either way, it's a good plan," said Percival, "but the stretcher may be too heavy and awkward for the two of us to carry down to the cottage alone."

"Already thought of that. Leon and Merlin offered to help. I caught up with them in the infirmary when I spoke to Gaius."

Leon and Merlin were good choices to assist in this project. Leon was Camelot's First Knight, a sober yet kind man, and he knew how to remain quiet and discreet. And while Merlin, King Arthur's manservant, was a little more exuberant and prone to clumsiness, Merlin was softhearted and loved children; of course he'd want to be involved.

Just as Percival covered the pile of goods with a thick woven blanket, Leon and Merlin turned up at Gwaine's door. Merlin grinned, his short black hair its usual mess, his ever-present red neckerchief askew. Right behind him stood Leon, dressed in his knight's cloak, his chin-length, light-brown hair properly arranged, his beard trimmed to a neat length. The two men couldn't be any different in looks – Merlin young and eager-eyed, while Leon appeared more mature and had an air of authority about him – but they both had one thing in common, and that was concern for those who suffered.

"Gwaine told me all about this," said Leon, striding into the room and taking measure of the situation. "I wish the woman had come to King Arthur. He wouldn't have allowed her and the children to go on struggling."

"She's proud," Percival told Leon. "She won't want to accept all this. We'll have to drop off the goods and run."

"Ah, quick in and out. I'm fast on my feet," said Merlin. "Gangly, but quick."

"We can't just drop and run," said Leon. "We have to make sure she brings everything indoors. There's food and we don't want to attract wild animals or thieves for that matter. And this is a lot… how will she and her little ones drag all this inside?"

"Damn, good point," Gwaine acknowledged. "Listen, I have a way with women. I'm sure I can help bring in the delivery and convince her to keep it."

"Gwaine's right. As much as I hate to admit it, he can be charming," said Leon.

Percival kept his mouth closed. He doubted Idele would be thrilled with the "ladies' man" turning up at her door, but at this point, few other options existed.

Leon grabbed the front of the stretcher. "Let's get going."

The men took their positions and began their way down the corridor. The goods on the stretcher were unbalanced and far too heavy, so they maneuvered with care and ever so slowly. It seemed as if it took an eternity to wend their way down the interior castle stairwell and out into the crisp night. By the time they made it outside, all four men were sweating and panting.

"Wheelbarrow next time," croaked Gwaine.

Normally, Leon bolstered the men, but on this occasion, even he appeared to be struggling under the weight of the load.

"Come on." Percival lifted his end of the stretcher. "Just down the lane…"

The walk "just down the lane" took close to an hour. At one point, the entire load shifted and Percival was convinced all was lost, but somehow, the lanky Merlin righted the entire thing with a quick shift of his hands.

"Merlin, how did you…?" asked Gwaine.

"Laws of weights and measures and whatnot," answered Merlin vaguely, and they trudged on.

By the time they reached Idele's door, Gwaine proclaimed his heart was ready to stop and he required "copious amounts of ale to encourage recovery."

The men dropped the heavy load right in front of the door, and as discussed, Percival, Leon, and Merlin hid behind the huge oak tree while Gwaine faced Idele. It was already late, well past the children's bedtime and possibly Idele's. Percival wondered how everything might turn out and braced himself as Gwaine knocked on the door. Idele appeared in the doorway gripping a knife.

"Whoa, whoa." Gwaine held up his hands and took a giant step back. "Easy, there."

Idele narrowed her eyes and lowered the knife. "Sir Gwaine? Sorry, I heard a ruckus out here and thought it might be an intruder." She paused and eyed the stretcher. "What's all that?"

"Allow me to explain…"

"No," whispered Idele, shaking her head. "I know what that is. Charity, and I don't want it."

"Please, Idele… may I call you Idele?"

She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. "The children are sleeping and I don't want to wake them. Say what you will, but I'm not taking any of that."

"It's nothing, really, just old cast-offs people wanted to contribute," said Gwaine. "People want to help."

"We manage fine on our own, thank you."

"A lovely woman like you shouldn't have to struggle so much. If you'd accept just a little help…"

Idele crossed her arms over her chest. "Your flattery doesn't impress me, Sir Gwaine."

Percival sensed this all falling apart. What happened to Gwaine being able to charm any woman? Idele didn't sound impressed. Percival was just about to step out of the shadows and plead with Idele to accept the delivery, but Leon held him back.

"Give Gwaine a chance," whispered Leon, and Merlin nodded his head in agreement. Percival stepped back into the shadows and continued to listen in.

"All right, Idele, let me put it this way – don't be a selfish hag," said Gwaine.

"Oh, gods," mumbled Percival under his breath. What was Gwaine doing?

Idele took a step toward Gwaine. "What did you say? Did you call me a selfish hag?"

"I did. Listen to me, woman, if you want to wear rags and sleep on the hard ground without a blanket, that's your business. But your children deserve more." She opened her mouth to argue, but Gwaine held up his hand. "I grew up in poverty… no one offered to help after my father died. My mother struggled and worked herself to death to provide for us. Yes, she actually collapsed while working in the fields one day and that was the end."

"Oh, I… I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. Just accept a little help. And I didn't mean I don't care if you wear rags sleep in the cold. I do care, actually, because you need to be healthy and fit if you're going to care for your children. I see this as a small investment to help you get back on your feet."

Idele peered at the ground. "I never thought of it that way."

"Can I bring this inside?" asked Gwaine.

"I suppose," she said in a whisper, her head hanging low and her shoulders slumped.

Gwaine reached out and patted her arm. "There is no shame in this. And besides, once we've unloaded, I could really use a tankard of ale and something to eat. I'm sure there's enough in here."

Idele brightened. "Of course."

Gwaine let out a shrill whistle. "Boys!"

Percival, Merlin, and Leon stepped out of the shadows.

"Time to unload!"

The fuss of dragging the goods into the cottage and situating them woke Dee and Rion. The children insisted they wanted to help, and eyed the delivery with glee, thanking the men every few moments. They paused often to snack and laugh. Percival wondered if this was the first time in a long time the children had full bellies.

Once everything was in its proper place, Percival glanced around and noted the cottage had finally started to look like a true home. Tomorrow, when more furniture made its way down, the family would be much more comfortable, and Percival could rest easier knowing they were fed and warm.

Idele presented the helpers with tankards of ale (now that she had tankards) and a platter of sliced pickled eggs and carrots.

"Idele, you should save this for yourself and the children," said Percival.

"Please, we have too much food now!" she said with a laugh. "And I would like your opinions on the pickled goods anyway. I used to sell them for extra money. The pickling spices are an old, secret family recipe. People loved it, but I had to sell the chickens and the garden didn't do too well this year, so this is the last of it. It would mean a lot to know someone enjoyed it."

With reluctance, the men sampled the food.

"Oh, gods, yes," mumbled Gwaine with his mouth full, savoring the taste of pickled egg. "This is the most delicious pickled egg ever. It's sharp, but no too sharp, creamy and flavorful… I'd buy a barrel of them."

Leon, Merlin, and Percival agreed.

"Thank you," said Idele, a tear coming to her eye. "For everything."

The men explained they had one more delivery for Idele tomorrow, mostly furniture, and she accepted their offer, though reluctantly. She draped blankets over her children, then hugged each man before he left. The men gathered up the empty stretcher and headed for home.

"I have an idea," said Gwaine, as they sauntered to the castle in the late evening. "Idele could make a killing selling that pickled food. But she needs more crocks and the actual food, since her garden didn't do well this year. What do you say?"

Percival glanced at Gwaine. "I say you're smarter than you look."

Gwaine chased Percival all the way back to the castle, while Merlin and Leon hung back and laughed.


	4. Training Begins

Chapter 4 – Training Begins

The following afternoon, Percival, Gwaine, and Leon turned up at Idele's cottage with a sturdy pine table and four matching chairs. They made a second trip, this time, delivering simple bed frames and mattresses stuffed with straw and fabric scraps. Idle and the children would no longer have to sleep on pallets.

"Thank you for all this," she said, as she draped a dark blue tablecloth over her new table, "but please, this is it."

"One more thing," said Gwaine. "You need that roof fixed. The thatch by the smoke hole is too thin and if it isn't repaired, half the roof could give way the next time it rains. One of my many talents is that I happen to be an expert thatcher. It's how I earned money for my family when I was young."

"Full of surprises, aren't you?" said Percival.

Idele appeared flustered. "Oh, all right. But you must allow me to repay you in some way."

"I know exactly how you can repay me. Will you pickle food for me?" asked Gwaine.

"I'd love to. Bring it by whenever you can and it'll be ready in a week. I have plenty of crocks now," Idele told Gwaine.

"Great." Gwaine gave Percival a surreptitious wink.

Gwaine and Leon stepped outside to begin the repair work, but Percival remained behind to speak with Rion.

"My warrior in training," said Percival with a grin, "will you be ready to train after the repairs are done?"

Rion leapt up and down. "Yes, yes, yes! And I'll make sure to pee first."

"What?" asked Idele, looking on questioningly.

"Best to empty one's bladder before training," said Percival. "So… yes. All right, after I'm done helping with the roof repair, we'll walk up to the training grounds together."

"I am ready!" Rion flashed the biggest grin imaginable.

XXXX

The roof-thatching project had taken longer than expected, but finally, Percival and Rion stood out in the middle of the training field. Gwaine had asked to be a part of the session, but Percival said no, the first day would just be Percival and Rion; a boy and his mentor needed to form a bond from the start.

"First, a warrior must be limber," explained Percival. "Stretching might not look like an important part of the job, but it is. It can help you run faster, jump higher, and swing a sword with greater ease. Ready?"

"Ready!"

Percival led Rion through various stretches, both standing and on the ground. They did splits, forward bends, lunges, then moved on to partner stretches, where each would push on the other's back to help him move lower. Rion smiled during every stretch and appeared to be having the time of his life.

"You're agile," Percival observed, as the boy sat on the ground with his legs stretched before him, grabbing the bottom of his feet.

"My body's young and stretchy. Yours is old."

Percival let out a deep laugh and fell back onto the grass. "I'm not that old! I'm twenty-two!"

"That's quite old."

"Not so!"

"You're old enough to be my father."

"Just barely. Enough of the old talk. Keep stretching and we'll discuss what you need to eat while training."

Percival explained Rion needed to eat adequate food, including meats, eggs, bread, and vegetables.

"The right foods will keep your body strong and full of energy," said Percival. "Cabbage is a good choice to have with supper."

"Eew." Rion wrinkled his nose. "I don't like cabbage. It tastes bad and gives me wind."

For the second time that afternoon, Percival laughed out loud. "Fair enough. If not cabbage, then spinach. That's also a proper vegetable."

"Are there improper vegetables?"

"You ask good questions. I suppose not. Just don't eat too much cooked fruit. Too many sweets while training isn't good for you. Sometimes it's all right, like after supper, but not after each meal."

"Right," said Rion with a bright smile. "I understand. And I want to get big muscles like you, so I'll do as you say."

"I'm glad to hear it. Now it's time for strength training so you can build those muscles, and we'll end with a run."

The rest of training took another good hour. Percival made sure to include several breaks. Rion was just a boy, this was his first day, and Percival didn't want to overwhelm him. But when they finished up their session with a jog into the Darkling Woods and back, Rion expressed his disappointment that training was over.

"Must I go home now?" Rion's mouth twisted into a frown, his large brown eyes sad.

"It's time, little man. Your mother will be waiting for you. And remember, muck out the pigs as best you can before supper. Do your best and I'll help you with it after training tomorrow. Tonight I have to dine with the men."

A dejected Rion said, "Dining with the men sounds like fun."

"If eating a meal with burping, farting men who tell jokes bawdy enough to turn your stomach, then yes, I suppose it's fun." That joke was too much for Rion, and Percival realized that. "Truth be told, it's not all that fun. One day, I'll have you join me and you can see for yourself."

"I could come with you?" Rion hopped up and down. "You'd let me have supper with you and the men?"

"Yes. When you complete two months of successful training, you can be my guest at supper."

Percival hadn't any idea if inviting a six-year-old for supper with the knights would be acceptable to King Arthur, and if it wasn't, Percival could always arrange for a smaller meal with a few knights. Percival had a feeling Rion would appreciate anything offered; he really was a fine little boy.

XXXX

As per usual, it had been a bawdy supper with the knights in the Dining Hall, one with too much drinking and tales of conquests in battle and bed. King Arthur turned up for a quick drink, which meant the stories spun further out of control the moment he left the table. Once Gwaine started describing his lust-filled tryst in a hay loft with two milk maids last month (the things he described sounded physically impossible), Percival excused himself. He didn't need another round of: "Why don't _you_ talk about women, Percival? Are you too much man for a woman to handle?"

Bristling with annoyance, Percival marched up to his chamber. It was one of those days when the sting of loneliness irritated him more than usual, especially after Rion left for home. Sure, his fellow knights could be decent company, and Gwaine was a true friend, but it would be nice to have a female companion in his life, preferably a wife. However, it was difficult when one was shy with women. That, and he had good reason to be wary about trusting ladies.

Just as Percival reached his quarters, Gwaine appeared at the other end of the corridor.

"What's wrong tonight, my maudlin friend?" said Gwaine.

"Nothing. Tired and cranky, I suppose."

"I hope you're not too cranky to make that delivery now."

Gwaine was referring to a delivery of fresh eggs, carrots, cucumbers, onions, vinegar, and new jars for Idele so she might re-start her pickling business. Gwaine and Percival agreed this was to be their last delivery, as the woman appeared to be teetering on the edge of forbidding them from entering her home for good, since she still struggled with accepting assistance. However, this delivery would permit her to be self-sufficient again, and that was for the best. Hopefully, she'd see that and not make a huge fuss.

Gwaine and Percival had spent a quarter of the money set aside from their collection on the food, and the rest would remain in Percival's possession where he'd one day offer it to Rion and Dee. Whenever the children needed it, the money would be theirs.

"I've got the crates of food waiting outside, this time, properly balanced in a wheelbarrow," said Gwaine. "We should head out. It's already dark."

The men left the castle and reached the corner of the courtyard where the wheelbarrow stood. Gwaine took the handles and Percival guided the front.

"Damn sweltering summer," complained Gwaine, as the men trudged along, easing the wheelbarrow over rocks, roots, and ditches. "This is a better workout than clanging around in full armor in the mid-afternoon sun."

"Always the penchant for exaggeration."

"You're too tense these days." Gwaine gave a grunt of exertion, maneuvering the awkward load around a tree stump. "You need a woman."

"Right. I'll order one up. Gwaine, how many times do we need go through this? Women are not all that interested in me."

"They are, you blind oaf. You don't see it, or you don't allow yourself to see it. What about Idele?"

Percival dropped the front of the wheelbarrow. "Gwaine, no, absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"She's not my type."

"Who is, then?" Gwaine gestured for Percival to take up his part of the load again. Percival complied and the two men moved through the darkness.

Who, indeed? It was not that Percival was looking for a princess… that wasn't the case at all. But he needed a woman who was more calm and docile, a woman who enjoyed quiet evenings by the fire, not rowdy gatherings at the tavern. Yes, Percival joined the knights in revelry from time to time, but the truth was, crowds and socializing often made him tense. On rare occasions, a woman might approach him at the tavern, often after she'd indulged in too much mead, and the moment he stood up from his seat, she usually blanched and babbled excuses about how she had to return home. Percival's height and build were _that_ imposing.

"Well, who is your type?" prompted Gwaine after Percival had failed to answer. "I overheard a pretty young courtier talking about you the other day. She said you were handsome. I don't see the appeal, but to each her own… I'm joking, Percival! You're a good looking bloke. I'd give you a crack myself if I liked men."

"Great. When desperation strikes in a century or so, I'll keep that in mind."

Gwaine kept rolling the wheelbarrow along. "Can I ask you something?"

"You will even if I say no."

"What happened last year that made you avoid women?" asked Gwaine, his tone serious. "I knew _something_ went on, but you never said a word. I realize I taunt you about the ladies, but it's only a joke. You can tell me what happened. I'm supposed to be your best mate. If this is something honestly bothering you, I won't harass you about it. I promise."

Percival, unable to meet Gwaine's eye, kept walking backward, guiding the load as he spoke. "It's embarrassing. And it hurts."

"Then I promise not to be an arse about it. How many embarrassing things do you know about me? Hundreds!"

Percival considered Gwaine's offer. It might be a relief to talk about why he'd barely looked at a woman during the last year. Perhaps that made Percival soft or easily wounded, but he couldn't help it; he'd been betrayed and the notion still stung. Especially when he had to see the woman at the castle now and again.

"Fine. We'll talk tomorrow night," said Percival. "We'll need ale."

"I need no excuse to drink ale, but that sounds good to me."

The men stopped speaking as they approached Idele's front door. With swift, quiet movements, they unloaded the wheelbarrow. When the last jug of vinegar and the final sack of cucumbers sat in front of the cottage, Percival and Gwaine smiled at one another, and prepared to run off into the night and congratulate each other on a fine stealth delivery job. Idele and the children would have no problems bringing in the goods; nothing was all that heavy or cumbersome. However, before they could move, the front door swung open and Idele stood there, her hands on her hips a look of grave disappointment on her face.

Yet aside from the grim countenance, she looked healthier. The hollows in her cheeks had filled out, and her complexion was less wan. And this evening, though she wore her black dress, she wore no mourning cap, and her hair appeared fuller. The small additions to the home and adequate food had helped.

"No!" she barked. "Absolutely not! I understand you men mean well, but enough is enough. You've done too much for us already. Can you imagine how it must feel to be me? Accepting charity, people thinking you're weak and foolish…"

Gwaine cut her off. "Weak and foolish? What are you talking about? This is the delivery of the goods I want to be pickled. You promised to do it."

"Sir Gwaine," said Idele with an eye roll, "you and I both know you meant a handful of cucumbers and eggs, not" – she waved her hand at the sacks and crates – "all this."

"I'll make you a deal," said Gwaine. "You pickle all this. What you don't use, sell at the market. But Percival and I get to pick up a jar of pickled food each week, whatever we want! Idele," he said, stepping closer to her, "for your children, put aside the money you make. Secure their future. All this, the furniture, food, and clothes are people's donations. In other words, it's their trash. Make something useful out of it. All right?"

Her lower lip trembled and she stared at the goods. "Fine. But this is IT."

"We still have a sitting chair and –"

"Gwaine," said Idele sharply, "I said no more."

He bowed his head. "All right."

"Anything else you can donate to the ladies at the brothel," said Idele. "I'm sure that's not a popular place to donate things, but I've seen those girls. Most of them are too thin and not properly clothed or cared for."

"Well, the lack of clothes part is probably due to their profession," said Gwaine.

A tear came to Idele's eye. "I could have become one of those women. If things hadn't changed, if you hadn't helped… never mind. They deserve our compassion, too. Can you imagine having to make your living in such a way? I doubt they enjoy it; they're desperate."

Percival made a conscious effort to keep his mouth from popping open with shock. Had Idele been close to prostituting herself to keep her children fed?

"We'll give the brothel ladies the rest of the donations," said Gwaine gently. "In the meantime, let's get this food into the house. I look forward to dozen pickled eggs next week."


	5. A Day Off

Chapter 5 – A Day Off

Percival gave a contented sigh when he woke the next morning. It was his day off, at last: no training, no patrol, nothing to do but relax and unwind. Today he'd… He sat up in bed. Do what? Percival couldn't recall the last time he had a full day off, perhaps after he'd been shot in the thigh with a crossbow.

Absently, he rubbed the scar above his knee. It still ached sometimes. He recalled the horror he experienced moments after the sharp bolt pierced his flesh and muscle. Death had not concerned him, but he was terrified the injury would disable him and King Arthur would be forced to dismiss him from service as a knight. But thankfully, Percival walked with a limp for a week and remained otherwise unaffected, save the occasional mild soreness.

He stretched and yawned as he rose and approached his wash bowl. After scrubbing down and cleaning his teeth, he took in his appearance in the full-length mirror affixed to the wall. With a forced smile, he flexed his biceps and pectoral muscles. Would a woman ever touch him again, he wondered, running his hand over his fine, light-colored chest hair. There had been two: He had experienced a one-night liaison in a barn loft when he was younger, a teenager, just before he had become a knight. He had wanted to keep the relationship with the adorable young woman going, but the girl seemed wholly unimpressed with his performance. When he'd seen her the next day at the Rising Sun, he'd approached her to say hello. With a grimace, she gave him a slight wave, then turned her back and ignored him. Burning with humiliation, he left and avoided the tavern for a month.

Percival turned from the mirror and grabbed his white linen tunic. During the summertime, he preferred to go sleeveless, because the heat and humidity bothered him if he wasn't dressed lightly. The truth was, he went sleeveless most of the year because it was a challenge to find clothes that fit comfortably around his huge arms, and paying for extra tailoring was not something he enjoyed doing. It was easier to snip off the sleeves.

As he dressed, he considered the second woman with whom he'd gone to bed. Their relationship lasted two whole months, until it crumbled under the weight of a secret she'd kept from him. And that was what he'd planned to talk to Gwaine about later. Finally, almost a year later, he needed to tell someone. The fact he'd just seen her wandering the castle halls yesterday, giggling with her entourage of lady friends, hadn't helped his mood. And the small swell of her lower abdomen indicating she was newly expecting.

How nice for her.

Percival tried not to be bitter, but that proved difficult. He wanted a family of his own, but the years seemed to keep slipping away. He chuckled without humor. Perhaps he and Gwaine would start a residence for retired, unmarried knights in their old age, though a part of Percival hoped it would never come to that.

Rather than slip into a gloomy mood on a bright summer day that otherwise offered so many wonderful opportunities, Percival considered how to best spend it. The first notion that flashed in his mind was Rion. Wouldn't it be great to take him swimming? Next to sword work, swimming was Percival's favorite activity. The water made him feel weightless and free, easing his burdens and soothing his anxieties.

That was it; Percival decided to call on Rion and take the boy to the lake. Percival would explain to Idele that Gwaine would be along later to help, but she needn't worry; Percival would keep Rion in the lake's shallows and work on nothing more than floating and a few kicks. He hoped she'd allow it.

In high spirits, Percival wandered out into the corridor. Yet while distracted by his thoughts of a pleasant day with Rion, he smacked straight into a young woman dressed in the typical nursemaid uniform of a stiff beige tunic dress. She carried a large woven basket overflowing with laundry, but the moment Percival plowed into her, children's clothes flew into the air and scattered up and down the corridor. The woman subsequently slipped on a tiny, errant sock, then topped right into Percival's arms. He held onto her waist and steadied her. The woman, pale-blond, robust, and taller than most, flushed a shade of deep scarlet Percival hadn't thought possible. She straightened the crooked linen coif covering her locks and pulled away.

"I apologize," said Percival. "I wasn't paying attention. Please let me help you with all this."

She seemed unable to answer. The woman dropped to her knees and collected the soiled clothes as fast as she could.

"Are you hurt?" asked Percival, working alongside her picking up the scattered mess, worried she had perhaps strained something in the near tumble.

She shook her head and would not meet his eye. "Sir Knight, I aim to be respectful and modest in the presence of knights." Her voice was low and tremulous, and she scuttled on her hands and knees as fast as she could, tossing clothes into the basket. "Camelot's warriors are fierce and they frighten me."

Percival placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and she flinched, but looked up. Her eyes, the color of dark honey, reddened with either distress or fear. He found himself wanting to soothe her.

"Knights are to live by the Code, to be honest and gallant, respectful to women. Have you not found that to be the case? If someone has treated you poorly, you must tell me."

The woman dropped her gaze to the basket. "I was displaced from Cornwall due to war, but the gracious Queen Guinevere took me on to work in the castle nursery beginning last month. I haven't interacted with many of Camelot's knights," she explained, "but King Odin's knights… many of them were not honorable men."

Percival's heart rate picked up and he found himself furious at the knights with whom this woman had awful experiences. Was it possible they had forced her? It might be, with the way she seemed so frightened of knights. The notion made him grind his teeth and want to ride his destrier into Cornwall and make someone pay. King Odin had long been an enemy of King Arthur, and it didn't take much for Percival to become furious at the mere mention of the Cornish leader's name.

Realizing his hand remained on her shoulder, he dropped his arm back to his side. "You won't find such knights here. I stake my honor on it. I'm Percival. And your name?"

She whispered her name so quietly, Percival had to ask her to repeat it.

"Fleur," she said, dropping a final, tiny pink girl's dress into the basket.

"That's the Frankish word for _flower_." Percival offered his arm to help her stand. She hesitated, then took the proffered arm. Now on her feet, she balanced the laundry basket on her hip, but peered down at the floor.

"How did you know that?"

"I, ah – this is difficult to confess – read a little poetry and I recall that word."

Fleur gave him a shy smile. "Have you read _Un Baiser?_ "

"Yes, _A Kiss_ , that's a beautiful one."

In his life, Percival had never once confessed his love of poetry. If he told any of his fellow knights, his life wouldn't be worth living; they might tie him down and force a dress on him. It felt strange sharing this deep secret with a woman he hardly knew, but somehow liberating.

"I must go to the laundry; I haven't much time before I need to return to the nursery. Good day, Sir Percival."

"Can I carry your load for you?"

"I'm afraid I… No, thank you."

She turned and rushed away, but Percival called out, "Goodbye, Fleur."

Her steps hesitated for a moment, but she kept walking, and his heart beat fast as he watched her go.

XXXX

Percival cajoled and Rion begged. After an hour of this, Idele finally relented and allowed Percival to take her son to the lake for a swim.

Rion all but ran from the house, carrying a change of trousers and a drying cloth. Percival took off after him.

"Slow down, Rion," said Percival with a chuckle, yet he understood the boy's delight. The thought of a day at the lake pleased him, too.

Rion stopped running, but seemingly unable to contain his enthusiasm, he marched in place, waiting for Percival to catch up. "And what about Sir Gwaine? Will he be along?"

"Yes. I slipped a note under his door. He'll come after his work's done. Soon, probably."

By the time they made it to the lakeside, Rion was in such a state his energy could not be contained. Vibrating with enthusiasm, the little boy struggled out of his clothing, down to his long drawers, and rushed for the lake. Percival caught Rion around the waist before he dove in.

"Easy there, my friend." Percival set him down. "Wait for me to take off my cloak and tunic and drop my sword belt, then I'll acclimate you to the water slowly. Rushing in headfirst without a plan is never a good idea, in any circumstance."

Rion's expression turned serious. "One needs a plan."

Percival stripped off his outerwear, but left on his trousers. "Always. Now, take my hand and we'll walk in."

Rion took Percival's hand and they entered the shallows of the lake where the water was warm. Percival guided the boy out further until they stood in water up to Percival's waist and above Rion's chin.

"Ooo, it's colder out here!" Rion shivered. "Percival, will I sink?"

"I'd never let that happen." Percival extended his arms parallel to the water. "All right, lie down on my arms and I'll help you float."

Rion shook his mop of brown hair back-and-forth vigorously. "Uh-uh. I don't want to. I change my mind; I don't want to swim."

"Rion, do you trust me?"

"I… I trust you."

"Then lie back. I will not let you sink."

Wincing, Rion lay back in Percival's arms. Percival moved him around in a gentle circle, and once Rion realized he was not destined for a watery death, the tension eased out of his gaze, and he laughed, that infectious laugh that children have, bright and loud. Whenever Percival was perturbed about something, children's laughter always set his mood straight.

As Rion floated, Percival studied the boy. He really was so young, little more than a babe, lean, but with round cheeks, unblemished skin, and clear, wide brown eyes.

"Your father would be proud of you, you know," said Percival. "For being brave and trying to swim."

Rion flashed a huge, toothy grin. "Do you think so? I hope so."

Percival spun him around in the cool lake water a little faster. "Good so far?"

"Great!"

For a time, Percival kept moving Rion in the water, allowing the boy to float. Sometimes, Percival made whooshing sounds and moved the child around in fast circles. Other times, he stomped along slowly, creating waves and making sounds like a whale might (or what Percival thought a whale might sound like).

And after those first few moments of apprehension, Rion loved his time in the water. They progressed to where Percival held Rion by the elbows and the boy kicked, and finally, Rion floated on his stomach (with help) while kicking and moving his arms. Without Rion realizing it, Percival let go for a moment, and Rion swam for a few strokes without help. The instant Rion recognized he was swimming on his own, Percival took hold of the boy again.

"I swam!" shouted Rion up at the dazzling blue sky. "I did it!"

"You did. I'm very proud."

And Percival was proud. His heart swelled with affection for this little boy. Was this how a father might feel about his son? He assumed so and wondered if he'd ever really know what it was to call a child of his own. Still, Rion felt very much like a son, and that was good enough for Percival.

"We've been in the water for some time," said Percival. "We need a break." Percival floated Rion closer to shore, but stopped dead in the water when he heard men's gruff voices echoing through the woods. This was not the time of day for Camelot's knights to patrol this area, and Percival swallowed hard. In the water, unarmed and with a child at his side, he was completely defenseless.

"On second thought, let's swim to the far side if the lake. Get behind me and wrap your arms around my neck. I'll take you for a ride." Percival did not want to panic Rion, and hoped he could get them out of the water and into a hiding spot in the woods.

But before Percival had the chance to make it more than a handful of strokes to the opposite shore, a voice shouted, "Halt there, you! Stop swimming and turn around."

Percival pressed his lips together into a thin line of concern and paddled around in a circle to face the men. Treading water, he peered at the trio, King Odin's men, as evidenced by the black wolf's head emblazoned on the gray surcoats covering their chainmail.

This was a damn bloody nightmare, facing Camelot's enemy while in such a vulnerable position, and Percival could not come up with a reasonable plan to get Rion to safety. Totally at Odin's men's mercy, he cursed himself for not waiting for Gwaine to come along. All Percival could think to do now was beg, not for his own life, but Rion's.

"I'm scared." Rion tightened his grip on Percival.

 _Gods, so am I_ , thought Percival, but said, "Don't worry. You'll be home soon."

The tallest man on the shore, dark-haired with a long, full beard, beckoned with a wave of his left hand as the right one rested on his hilt of his sword. "Swim forth with the boy and don't make any funny movements." With narrowed eyes, Odin's knight glanced down at Percival's folded clothes, which rested on a rock at the shore. The cloak bore the recognizable golden Pendragon crest. "Knight of Camelot? Looks as if we found more than we bargained for today, boys!"

The two other knights cackled as Percival trudged to the shore with Rion still clinging to him. But rather than emerge from the water, Percival remained in the knee-deep shallows, hoping to somehow delay. He had to try to talk these men into letting Rion go.

"You can have me," said Percival, "but let the boy go. He's nothing to you."

"Your son?" asked the head knight.

"No," answered Percival quickly, as a knight's son might be worth kidnapping or killing. "A village boy. Not a child of any status."

"I don't need the aggravation of dealing with a screaming, snot-nosed child." The knight cast Rion a cruel stare. "Off with you, boy. Run to your mum and don't stop. Consider yourself lucky."

Percival breathed a deep sigh of relief, peeled Rion's hands from his neck, and set him down in the water. "Run for home and stop for nothing," Percival whispered.

Tears flooded Rion's eyes and he shook his head. "No. I don't want to leave you."

"You must. I'm strong and I can fight them off."

The men at the shore scoffed. The youngest knight, a shorter, stocky man with a patchy brown beard, pulled the bow from his shoulder, retrieved an arrow from his quiver, and took aim. "Tell the little donkey to go now unless he wants me to use him as target practice." The man drew back his bowstring.

Percival's stomach lurched and his heart thundered. Rion had to leave now, so Percival tried to adopt a cross demeanor and gave Rion a shove. "Go home, Rion, now! No one wants you here." It pained Percival to say such a thing, but he if he did not, he feared Rion might try to stay.

The boy peered up at Percival with a frown on his face, but whispered ever so quietly, "I'm getting help."

Percival wanted to tell the boy no, tell Rion to get home without delay and save himself, but Rion was already at the shore and running.

"Now put your hands behind your head and step out of the water," said Odin's head knight. "Face your death like a man. I cannot wait to present your head to our king. One of Camelot's largest knights? That's quite the prize. Your big head will look pretty up on a spike in front of his castle, blondie."

As asked, Percival laced his fingers behind his head and trudged from the water. The leader leered at Percival's wet, bare chest and the man licked his lips, his eyes darkening with lust. Percival had heard of this before but had not seen it with his own eyes, Odin's knights dominating adversaries, forcing captives to submit sexually.

The feud between Camelot and Cornwall had worsened in recent years. King Arthur had killed Odin's son years ago. It had been an honest fight, one where Odin's son challenged Arthur, but that did not matter to Odin. The King of Cornwall wanted his revenge against Camelot, and his knights were happy to carry Odin's vengeance in the most despicable ways possible.

A chill of terror ran down Percival's spine, but he moved forward. He was not about to be raped and slaughtered without a fight, but unarmed against three men? He was unlikely to survive. Preparing to rush the oldest knight and put up the fight of his life, Percival thought for an instant about the people for whom he cared, the king, the queen, Gwaine, Merlin, Leon, and Rion. And another face flashed in his mind, Fleur's. His brief interaction with the shy beauty had affected him that deeply.

But he dismissed these visions, took a deep breath, said a quick prayer to the Goddess of War, and readied himself to meet his parents in the hereafter.

 


	6. What a Knight Does

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to point out, in this chapter, there will be some violence, and a very brief discussion of a sexual assault. I want to make sure you are aware of this, just in case it is something that might trigger you.

Chapter 6 – What a Knight Does

Percival, now on dry land, took a halting step forward. But the instant he moved, a belt knife sailed through the air out of nowhere and pierced the oldest knight through the neck. The man gurgled and clutched at his throat, coughing up deep red blood, then collapsed. A moment later, a sword came whistling from the hedges and penetrated the younger knight's chainmail, right through the chest. He dropped instantly.

That left only one of Odin's knights alive. The man peered around, confused, and that gave Percival enough time to move for his own sword, which rested right beneath his folded cloak on the ground. But before Percival got his hands on the hilt, the remaining knight screamed out a battle cry and flung his dagger at a form in the woods. The blade must have connected with its intended target, because the unknown rescuer, obscured by brush, grunted in pain. But Percival did not have time to pause and identify the rescuer. Percival took his chance and swung his sword, taking off Odin's knight's head with a violent sweep of the blade. The knight's body twitched at it fell to the ground.

There was no time to consider the three dead enemies at Percival's feet; he had to locate his savior in the woods, someone who had taken a blade for him. Percival sped toward the area where Odin's knight had flung the dagger, and out stepped Rion, still wet and now shaking, holding up his hands in a sign of surrender.

"Rion!" shouted Percival. "What are you doing here? Are you hurt? Did that blade strike you?" He saw no wound and relaxed a little. The boy was safe.

"I found Sir Gwaine in the woods and hurried him along." Rion's teeth chattered. "The knife hit him and I told him to lie back. He's dying…"

Percival vaulted over the hedgerow, caught his foot in the process, and tumbled down right next to Gwaine, who lay on the ground with a long blade sunk into his lower gut. Gwaine, his lips chalky and his face ashen, smiled at Percival.

"Turns out you were wrong," said Gwaine with a grimace.

"Shhh. Don't talk. I'll carry you back to the castle," Percival insisted, breaking into a cold sweat at the sight of his best friend so grievously wounded. "Gaius can help you. But wait, what do you mean I was wrong?"

"You said I'd die in a woman's bed, naked and drunk as a northern barbarian." He winced and breathed a loud grunt of pain. "Would have been more fun than this…"

"Gwaine, I'm sorry. Thank you for saving me. But you're not dying. I won't allow it." Percival, still down on his hands and knees next to Gwaine, peered up at Rion. The poor boy's face looked almost bloodless as Gwaine's, and the tunic-less child shivered, despite the day's warmth.

"Rion," said Percival in a calm voice, "you're fast. I need you to run ahead and alert Gaius, the Court Physician, that Gwaine is seriously hurt with a knife wound to his lower belly. When you come upon the guard at the castle entrance, tell him you need to speak to Gaius about an emergency. The guard should escort you right to the infirmary. Can you remember all that?"

Still trembling, Rion nodded his head.

"All right. I'm going to lift Gwaine carefully and carry him slowly. I'll be heading along the lake path, northbound. Can you remember that, too?"

"Yes. Gwaine's hurt, stabbed in the belly, and you're bringing him home, north on the lake path."

"That's right." Percival tried to smile at the young boy, but found it impossible with Gwaine fading in and out of consciousness. "Now go."

Rion charged for the path, his arms pumping, his little legs flying.

"All right." Percival rubbed his hands together, trying to figure out how he might best move Gwaine without causing further issue. Tossed over the shoulder, the typical way to carry a wounded man, was out of the question. He would need to carry Gwaine supine in his arms, much like a sleeping baby might be carried. Gwaine was sure to hate that. But Gwaine's eyes had begun to drift closed and his face appeared paler than ever, so Percival lifted his injured friend.

"Dear gods above, it hurts like I'm impaled on a demon's flaming sword," muttered Gwaine.

Percival took careful but rapid steps along the path, doing his best to not jostle Gwaine too much. "Good. When it stops hurting is when you need to worry."

"If I don't make it –"

"Don't." Percival moved faster. "Don't even think it."

"Percival, I'm not stupid. I know how bad this wound is. I'm fading. I feel it. So let me tell you one thing… You're my brother. You are."

"Don't get emotional and strange. It doesn't suit you."

Gwaine closed his eyes and his breaths grew short and choppy.

"Gwaine!" Percival purposely jostled his friend, and the man's eyes fluttered open. "All right, you're not going to die right now, but when that day comes and if I'm not there, I want you to know you're my brother, too. Do you hear me?"

"Percival? It doesn't hurt anymore."

Percival forgot his concerns about not jostling Gwaine and sprinted. However, a few dozen steps later, Percival reached a wall of men – Leon, Merlin, King Arthur, more than a dozen knights, Gaius, and Rion in the back of the crowd.

Gaius, the stooped, white-haired Court Physician, barreled forward, faster than a man half his age might.

"Lower him, Percival," commanded Gaius, "and let me examine the wound."

Percival complied, and Gaius peered closely at the knife protruding from Gwaine's gut. With a brief nod of his head, he said, "He has lost a great deal of blood. And are you hurt, Percival? You're covered in blood as well."

Percival glanced down at his chest and trousers, which were awash with dark red blood. He hadn't realized Gwaine was hemorrhaging so badly.

"No," said Percival, now shaking with shock as Rion had earlier. "None of it's mine. Gwaine saved me. Please, Gaius, help him."

His head wobbling and his eyes glassy, Gwaine gazed up at Percival. "Pshaw. It's what a knight does. No… it's what a friend does."

"Men, I need two of you to carry Gwaine by the arms and two by the legs," commanded Gaius, "and run him back to the infirmary, and I do mean run." He turned to Percival. "I hate to ask this, but I am not a young man any longer and cannot move with the necessary speed. Would you toss me over your shoulder and bring me to the castle?"

Percival did not wait for another word. He tossed the elderly man over his shoulder and ran. Percival hoped Rion was all right, but for the moment, Percival's sole purpose was getting Gwaine help.

XXXX

In the corridor outside of the castle infirmary, Percival paced and stomped, furious that Gaius and Merlin had not allowed Percival inside of the infirmary to stand by Gwaine's side. Gaius calmly explained they needed space and quiet. However, in a rare outburst of anger, Percival shouted at the men, declaring he would not be kept from his friend.

Percival found himself being restrained by King Arthur and Leon, so Percival took long, deep breaths to calm himself, a trick he often used before battle. He did not realize he had been so irate and aggressive.

So instead of bellowing and making demands, Percival, bloody and shirtless, continued pacing as his friends and comrades spoke soothing words to which he did not bother to listen. And when offered a wet rag and clean clothes, he ignored the gifts.

But the sight of one person drew him out of his misery – Fleur.

She wandered toward him. This time, she wore no linen coif, as she had earlier, and her elbow-length, wavy blond hair hung down loose. When he had bumped into her outside of his chamber early this morning, Percival had not realized how thick and glossy her locks were. And instead of wearing her nursemaid uniform, this afternoon, she wore a pale blue dress, fitted at the top, and cinched at the waist with dark leather girdle belt. The belt accentuated the curve of her hips, and the color of her dress brought out the light honey-brown shade in her eyes. She was even more beautiful than he recalled, and in that instant, her presence was the balm he needed to soothe his agitated soul.

She walked right up to him and smiled. Fleur had seemed so shy before, and a hint of timidity remained, yet she pulled a damp rag from the small pouch attached to her belt and began to wipe the dried blood off Percival's chest. The men wandered down the hall, presumably to offer Percival and Fleur privacy.

"I heard all about what happened," she said, scrubbing his chest. "That must have been terrible, and I want to help."

"I thought of you," babbled Percival. "When I faced Odin's men, I thought of you."

Fleur appeared as if she wanted to reply, but instead, she focused intently on scrubbing off the last spot of blood from Percival's lower abdomen. He reached out and rested his hand on her arm. She flinched and cleared her throat.

"Who hurt you?" asked Percival. "I know someone did. Tell me who it was."

Fleur folded the soiled cloth and stuffed it back into her pouch. "This isn't about me. Your friend is wounded. I came to offer help and support. You were kind to me earlier and I want to repay that kindness."

With a gentle finger to her chin, Percival tipped her face up toward him and he shook his head. "I want to know what happened to you."

After a long pause, she said, "It happened last year when I was eighteen, when I still lived in Cornwall. It was hot out, and I walked home without my coif and I had my sleeves rolled up. My shoulders were bare with my skin exposed for all to see… not proper. And a man approached, one of Odin's knights. He told me I was asking for it, wandering around as I was…"

Percival's guts twisted into a tight knot. "He forced you?"

Fleur dropped her gaze to the floor and shook her head. "He got very close, but I escaped before the unthinkable happened. But he tore off my clothes and touched me in ways I dare not repeat. It hurt and scared me. A lot. Men scare me," she added in a whisper.

"Is that man still alive?" Because if he lived, Percival would hunt down that beast for causing this beautiful, caring creature pain.

"I don't know. I was so frightened I can't recall his face. I have little memory of what happened other than the pain and fear."

"Fleur, a woman never asks to be taken against her will. You didn't deserve it. But there are good men out there who would treat you well."

Percival wanted to speak of the link between him and Fleur, that connection he had experienced earlier when they had bumped into one another. He opened his mouth to explain, but right then, Gaius appeared in the infirmary doorway, wiping his hands on his bloodstained apron, but a smile curled the old man's lips.

"He lives," announced Gaius.

Percival closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. "Thank the gods."

Arthur, Leon, and the rest of the knights darted down the hallway and all but shoved Gaius out of the way to get to Gwaine's side. But before Percival walked into the infirmary, he turned to Fleur again.

"Thank you, Fleur. You've helped me so much today. I'm not sure what I would have done without your comfort and care."

She gave him a soft smile, curtseyed, and hurried off. Percival had wanted to say more, to ask when he might see her again, but instead, he wandered into the infirmary to see his best friend.

He reached the tall wooden examination table upon which Gwaine lay, holding court, laughing and grinning as if he had been treated for a sore toe as opposed to a life-threatening injury. How was it possible that he had the energy to speak and his cheeks were pink with health? Gaius must be a true miracle worker, and for that, Percival was grateful. He would have to bring the old man a nice bottle of wine as a thank you; no, it would need to be several bottles of wine and perhaps a honey cake. And some for Merlin, too. He must have helped.

"Gentleman," said Gwaine, sitting up, addressing the knights with bravado, "do you think Percival and I can have a moment alone?" He glanced at Merlin and Gaius. "Would that be all right?"

"Or course." Gaius led the men from the infirmary. The moment the party exited the chamber and Percival and Gwaine were by themselves, Gwaine grabbed Percival by his bare shoulder and pulled him down.

"Percival, you will never believe this! Merlin has magic!"

"What?" Percival pulled a face of disbelief. "He does not. What makes you say that?"

"Gaius tried to fix me, but I was bleeding out, dying… I know it. Everything turned hazy and gray. But then I heard Gaius say something to Merlin about a spell, and before I knew it, Merlin's hands were on my wound and he said something like ''hælan wundian.' I couldn't make out the exact words."

"Gwaine, you were wounded and almost killed. I don't think –"

"No, I swear it happened! And when Merlin spoke, his eyes flashed gold. For an instant, my gut burned like someone shoved a hot coal inside me, but then all my pain stopped and so did the bleeding. I feel fine!" Gwaine poked at his wound, which still appeared raw, and bore several long stitches. The injury did not look "fine."

And Percival realized while anything was within the realm of possibility, it seemed unlikely that Merlin possessed strong magic. It was hard to picture the scrawny, somewhat bumbling – yet caring, brave, and funny – young man being a sorcerer. And even if Merlin _was_ , this was not something Percival or Gwaine should discuss with anyone, as magic remained banned in Camelot, and practitioners might be executed. Percival doubted King Arthur would hang or burn Merlin, the king's manservant, close friend, and confidante, but why take that risk?

"I am not mad, Percival!" bellowed Gwaine, agitated, and Percival slapped a hand over Gwaine's mouth.

"Quiet down before the whole kingdom hears you. Let's say I believe you. What do you want to do about it?"

Gwaine shoved away Percival's hand. "Keep it to our damn selves, of course. Merlin's our friend and I don't want him to end up dead. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense about him having magic. There have been too many times when Arthur and the rest of us were saved from certain death when Merlin was around. And what about other odd coincidences?"

"Such as?"

"The sword in the stone, for one. When Arthur withdrew the sword from that huge stone, Merlin was right at his side, and I swore I saw Merlin's eyes change color for a moment, but I convinced myself it was a trick of the light."

"You're not raving like a total madman, but you're right, we need to keep this to ourselves."

"Unless Merlin can conjure wine or something. Because if he can do that…"

Percival crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Gwaine.

"I'm joking! Get a sense of humor, will you? We'll keep this between us. Meanwhile, I plan to celebrate my miracle recovery."

"I shudder to think of how you want to celebrate."

Gwaine laughed, hopped off the table, and pulled on his tunic. "With women and mead!" He slapped Percival's bare shoulder. "How else?"

"Can't it be a nice, quiet evening by the fire with a tankard of ale and a bowl of mutton stew?"

"Never, my friend."

XXXX

"I cheated death, men!"

Gwaine, _truly_ drunk as a northern barbarian, swayed in his seat at the Rising Sun Tavern, regaling all who would listen to his tale of bravery in saving Percival, and he further boasted about his swift recovery. This had been going on for ages, Gwaine's wild storytelling. It was nighttime now, and Percival wanted to get home, not act as caretaker to his intoxicated friend. Again. But since Gwaine had saved Percival's life, Percival chose to be patient. He owed the man.

"Oh, wait!" Gwaine, glassy-eyed from having drunk far too much mead, turned to face Percival, but ended up lying across his lap. "We _must_ talk tonight! You were supposed to tell me" – Gwaine motioned for Percival to lean down – "your secrets," he said in a whisper so loud anyone at the adjacent tables could hear.

"If you think I am telling you my 'secrets' when you're this drunk, you must be mad."

But it did not matter what Percival said, because Gwaine's eyes slammed shut and he snored loudly.

"Perfect," muttered Percival, annoyed that he would have to carry Gwaine out of the tavern, up the steep hill, and back to the castle.

"We'll help you see him to his chamber," said Leon, who sat right across from Percival. Merlin – who sat beside Leon – nodded in agreement.

Percival flung Gwaine over his shoulder and carried the man out of the tavern and into the summer night while Leon and Merlin followed. Once situated outside, Leon and Merlin took Gwaine's feet while Percival carried Gwaine beneath the shoulders. The men said little on the trek home, as it had been a long evening, and Percival tried not to stare at Merlin with open admiration.

While gripping Gwaine's dead weight, Percival thought about how Merlin must feel, how challenging it must be to possess such power and be forced to keep it hidden. And lonely: that was something to which Percival could relate, feeling alone even when surrounded by friends.

"Merlin, thank you for helping Gaius with Gwaine earlier. I appreciate all you do," said Percival.

"Oh, it was mostly Gaius." Merlin's cheeks burned red. "I just did what I was told."

"Either way, I appreciate it."

Leon chimed in. "You're far too modest, Merlin. Take a little credit sometimes."

Once they made it to Gwaine's chamber door, Percival bid Merlin and Leon goodnight and took over. With his shoulder. Percival shoved open the heavy wooden door, crossed the room, and eased Gwaine into bed.

"No pissing yourself tonight." Percival pulled the bedclothes up to Gwaine's shoulders.

"I pissed earlier."

Percival had to smile at that. Of course Gwaine was awake and probably had been the whole walk home.

Gwaine opened his eyes a crack and wrinkled his nose. "Little bright in here with the candles and all."

"Pardon me, princess." Percival blew out a candle. "Sorry I needed light so I could see and haul your drunk body in here without tripping over the mess of clothes on the floor."

"Not a mess. Suitably tidy."

"For a pig sty."

Gwaine shot Percival an angry look. "If you say so. But I have an announcement before I pass out for the night."

"Can't wait to hear."

Gwaine's expression softened. "I would have died for you. And you would have done the same for me. Because that's how we are… brothers, right?"

Percival had not expected that. With a sigh, he said, "You make it impossible to stay cross, even after I've dragged your drunk body up a hill. Yes, we're brothers, always."

That brotherhood had begun day Percival met Gwaine (as well as Arthur, Elyan, and Guinevere) in Valley of Fallen Kings a handful of years ago. Percival had fought side-by-side with Gwaine all the way back to Camelot, battling bandits, mercenaries, and Morgana's relentless warriors. During that time – and the subsequent month of brutal training and testing they'd endured to become knights – Gwaine and Percival bonded. Percival still vividly recalled the day they were knighted at court, along with Elyan and Lancelot. Percival missed his dear friend Lancelot…

Gwaine's words cut into Percival's thoughts. "Good. No matter what, we're always brothers." Grunting, Gwaine flipped onto his side and closed his eyes. "Tomorrow, we make the delivery to the brothel and then you tell me your secrets. About the woman."

"Lovely. Sounds like a joyful evening."

Percival made his way to the door, but paused before walking out. He turned to face his best friend, and in a low voice, said, "I appreciate you more than you know."

As Percival pulled the door closed, Gwaine's whispered reply met Percival's ears: "Same to you, mate."


	7. Secrets Shared

Chapter 7 – Secrets Shared

"I don't want to know why you're grinning," said Percival the following evening at dusk. He and Gwaine carried the bulging sacks of Idele's excess donations to offer the women at the brothel.

Gwaine adjusted a heavy sack over his shoulder and flashed a cheeky grin. "I look forward to seeing the ladies is all."

"Gwaine, please… We're not staying! It's a quick drop off and that's it."

"Have you ever been inside the brothel?"

"No, I have not."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to pay women for sex. That doesn't appeal."

Percival could not imagine walking into a place, handing over coins, and disappearing into a room with a stranger and demanding she remove her clothes and… service him. He enjoyed women's bodies as much as the next man, but he desired a connection to the woman first, even if it was little more than a pleasant friendship.

Shifting the weight of his sack, he frowned, aware he was lying to himself. Percival was a romantic, and what he craved most of all was a relationship that combined love and sex, but after his experience with a certain woman, he wondered if it was possible. Obviously, it was for some, like King Arthur, but perhaps not Percival. Not every man was so lucky.

Gwaine's low chuckle cut into Percival's thoughts. "You are not required to have sex with the women if you visit; I haven't. But I've stopped in to peruse the beauties on occasion, share a quick drink, snacks, and maybe have one or two sit on my lap. All right, _maybe_ a quick kiss. That's all. Always making assumptions about me."

"Yes, well, I'm not as outgoing as you, as you often point out."

"Can't have it all, I suppose."

They reached the front of the brothel and Percival stood back while Gwaine took charge and knocked. A petite woman with long, wavy blond hair answered the door. It was dim inside, so Percival had difficulty making out the details of her appearance, but she smiled, ushered them in, and closed the door behind them.

It took a few moments for Percival's eyes to adjust to the low light, but what he saw made heat rise in his face. These women – too young in his opinion – wore clothing so tight and short it left nothing to the imagination. And those who did not wear skimpy clothes were clad in fabric so sheer, Percival saw every detail of their shape beneath the garments, as if they wore nothing at all.

Percival appreciated the female form, just as any healthy young man would, but seeing these women flaunt themselves made him flush with embarrassment. How could any woman want this type of life for herself, and what had driven them to this? And besides all that, where should he look? He decided in their eyes was best.

"Gwaine, my lovely!" A buxom young woman (about age eighteen) wearing a see-through shift launched herself into his arms and planted a wet kiss to his lips. "Haven't seen you in a while." She tossed her thick black hair over her shoulder. "Where've you been?"

"Oh, here and there, Anaed. A knight's work is never done." Gwaine dropped his sack onto the floor, and waved to several ladies who stood back against the far wall and giggled. "Hello, Kayna, Tegi, and Meran. Business good?"

Huddled together, they giggled again and nodded their heads.

"Gwaine, you know all their names?" whispered Percival.

"No, not all." Gwaine gave Percival a shove away from him, snatched the satchel from Percival's shoulder, and turned his attention back to the women. "Ladies, we have a few things for you: cloaks, shoes, and food, courtesy of Idele, a villager."

The buxom Anaed covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Idele! I know her! Poor woman. How is she doing?"

"She's good now." Gwaine gave a nod and opened up both sacks. "Tough times for a while, but better."

Anaed lowered her voice. "She came to me a few weeks ago. She wanted to ask questions about our work, said she might have to take on some shifts here. I told her not to and tried to give her a coin, but she wouldn't take it. I'm glad to see it didn't come to that."

Percival's heart broke over this news, to hear that Idele had been so close to prostitution. Yet Anaed's words also made him realize these women of the brothel were like any other decent women, caring and concerned about others.

"Ladies, let's have a look at our gifts!" said Anaed, and the rest of the women rushed forward and dug their way through the sacks, selecting items they needed. The cloaks and the food seemed the most popular, and a few of the women shoved bread right into their mouths.

_They must be so hungry_ , thought Percival, once again reflecting on the fact that in this "Golden City," people suffered, went hungry, and sold their bodies to survive.

He tried to relax a little and peered around the roomy cottage. In the center of the room sat the table where he assumed the women took their meals. Along the walls were beds partially obscured by dark cloth hangings. Percival supposed to offer their clients a modicum of privacy, the women drew the hangings when they entertained customers. He could not imagine lying with a woman in such a place with people milling about. Staying home and managing his lust by himself sounded more appealing.

And besides the lack of privacy, the smell was killing him, as the thick odor of what seemed like perfume burning tickled his nose and throat, and the irritation made him cough.

Anaed, a seductive smile on her face, approached. "My, my, my, you sure are a looker. Why haven't I seen you here before?"

"Well, ah, I-I'm not really one to, ah, come to the brothel," he babbled, not wanting to insult this woman, but hoping he made it clear he was not interested in conducting a transaction.

But apparently, Percival had not been clear, because Anaed reached down and cupped his crotch. Despite Percival's nerves and extreme discomfort, his groin tightened. It had been about a year since a woman touched him, so of course his body responded in a predictable way. He took a step back, but Anaed's hand remained in place, so he tried stepping to the side, but missed a wrap that had been casually discarded on the floor. He slipped on the gauzy fabric and fell right on his arse, hard.

"Oh, I am sorry!" Anaed offered her hand to help up Percival, but he was already on his feet, more embarrassed than when he had walked in.

Gwaine bent over and clutched his side, howling with laughter. It took several long moments for him to comport himself, but once he did, he said, "Ladies, my friend is shy. Forgive him."

"Yes, really, I need to get back," said Percival. "Have a good night."

He flew out the front door before he humiliated himself again. If Gwaine wanted to stay behind, that was fine, but Percival was going home to have a drink, probably two. Frustrated, he marched his way up the steep path only to have Gwaine appear at his side.

"That, my friend, was the funniest thing I have ever seen!" said Gwaine. "You falling over like that…"

"So glad you found it amusing. I'm done for the evening, and I do not want company."

Percival jogged ahead. He was tired of providing comedic relief for Gwaine and embarrassing himself, so he decided he would lock himself in his chamber and spend a quiet evening _alone_.

"Percival, wait…"

Percival did not turn. He ran into the castle, up the stairs, pushed his way into his room, and bolted the door behind him. His gaze shifted to his dining table, and stopped on the jug of ale. He poured himself a tankard and took a long drink. He had planned on talking to Gwaine tonight about the goings-on with that woman last year – he hated to even think of her name – but instead, tonight, he would drink and think about another woman who had been on his mind of late, Fleur.

Annoyed and morose, he drained his tankard while picturing the scene from yesterday where Fleur's warm hands caressed his chest as she cleaned the blood from his skin. Had she felt it, the obvious connection between them? Percival had felt it when he bumped into her out in the corridor a mere two days ago. Was that all it had been? Two days?

And she _had_ to have noticed their connection, otherwise, why had she been so keen to help Percival after Gwaine's injury? Or was that just the type of woman she was, caring? Perhaps that was how she treated everyone.

Aside from her kindness, Percival found her beautiful, probably the most gorgeous woman he had seen. He appreciated robust women with strong builds, not willowy ones who looked as if a stiff breeze might topple them. And the way her light hair and creamy skin emphasized those warm eyes? Perfection. Not to mention those curves, full in all the right places. Even though she seemed to want to deemphasize her sensuality, Percival picked up on it. And he sensed she did not find herself beautiful, which was a shame.

Fleur captivated him and he wanted to get to know her better. For the first time in a long time, possibly ever, he felt drawn to a woman. Of course, there had been that _other_ woman, but that connection had been friendly (or so he thought) and sexual in nature. The way Percival felt for Fleur was so very different; every time he thought of her, he experienced a pleasant ache of wanting in his chest.

Percival poured himself another tankard of ale and took a sip; this was a strong batch.

Taking a seat on his bed, he considered that Fleur might not want anything to do with him. Yes, she was taller than most women, but Percival still stood a good head above her. And she might not be all that impressed with his broad build. So many women seemed overwhelmed by his imposing stature. But when she had cleaned him, she did not seem put off. No, she had exactly not thrown herself at him, but she did not seem displeased with his physique.

Still, he had mucked up things with two women now, that first girl to whom he had lost his virginity, and most recently… the woman whose name he did not want to think of.

"Oh, who am I kidding? I'm useless with women" He placed down his tankard on the bedside table and lay back. Within moments, thanks to the alcohol, he was asleep.

XXXX

BANG!

Percival groaned and rolled onto his back. What was going on? Construction in the castle? He opened his eyes a crack. No, it was still night time, so that was not possible.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

That was the sound of someone beating on his chamber door with such force he wondered if it was news about the world ending.

"Who is it?"

"Open the damn door!"

"No, it's late. GO AWAY."

More banging. Why couldn't Gwaine leave him be?

Percival hopped up from bed, marched to the door, and flung it open wide. "What?" he barked, as Gwaine stood there, a sheepish look on his face, holding a jug of ale and a huge half ham tucked under his arm.

"Sorry?" Gwaine flashed a boyish smile. "Let me in, all right? We were supposed to talk about your troubles tonight. I'll be a friend and not an arse, I swear."

Percival crossed his arms over his chest and stood up tall. He wanted to tell Gwaine to piss off, but the scent of smoked ham and Gwaine's almost pleading smile made Percival's anger soften. "Oh, come in, then. But I want a center cut."

Gwaine walked inside and set up at the dining table, whipping out his belt dagger and carving up the meat. "All yours! But I need a little more light in here. And while you're at it, start talking about that woman."

Percival lit the wall torch with a rush wick. This was not going to be an easy conversation, but he figured it was best to start right in.

"Fine, but I don't want to say her name. I don't like to even think of it." He took his seat at the table across from Gwaine. "She's a courtier and lives here in the castle; I met her last year at the feast we had welcoming that envoy from Mercia. We sat together the whole night, talking. She was friendly and fun, but she had too much to drink, so I escorted her back to her chambers."

"I understand how that goes."

"She invited me in. I'd been with only one other woman, and it was just the once, so when she, uh, offered herself to me, I couldn't resist."

"Nor should you have." Gwaine popped a piece of ham into his mouth and chewed. "If a woman is willing and ready why would you deny yourself?"

"We'll save _that_ conversation for another day, because you and I will never agree on that matter.

"Anyway, after that evening, we spent most of our time together drinking and engaged in… other pursuits."

"The type that don't involve clothing?"

The back of Percival's neck heated with embarrassment. "Yes. That. She taught me a lot about pleasing women. And she was eager and complimented me, which I needed at the time."

"Sounds good so far."

"It was good for two months. But even with the fun we had, I knew something was missing. She made it clear she was not interested in an official courtship, and she insisted we keep our meetings completely secret and never acknowledge each other around the castle. I agreed, because I assumed she didn't want people to think poorly of her, unwed, sharing a bed with a knight."

Gwaine sat back. "Where did it all go wrong?"

"At the end of the second month. Remember when the group of Camelot's courtiers and knights that had gone on the diplomatic mission to the Western Isles returned home? Well, the moment they entered the Great Hall, she launched herself into a man's arms, one of the returnees."

"That must have been unpleasant to witness."

"It was. Especially since the man turned out to be her _husband_." Percival bit the inside of his lip, picturing _that woman_ dashing across the Hall, flinging herself at a man and shouting, "Husband! Welcome home!" The memory still made Percival's skin crawl.

"What?" Gwaine's eyes rounded in surprise. "She lied to you all that time? You didn't know she was married?"

Percival took several gulps of ale. "I had no idea. I wouldn't have touched her if I had known she had a husband. Clearly, she was bored and I was her plaything. She lied. She never cared about me at all." He toyed with his tankard. "I didn't love her, but I cared. And there's more."

"Something worse?"

"I avoided her since then, and thanks to the size of the castle, that wasn't so hard. Just when I felt like I was getting over the mess, I saw her a few days ago. She's with child."

Gwaine stopped chewing. "Oh, damn. Could it be yours?"

"No. We've been through for about a year."

"I'm sorry, mate. I had no idea. And I don't know how you kept it from me."

Gwaine's reaction surprised Percival. Percival expected his best friend to call him soft, to tell him to get over it, or something similar. Percival remained ashamed that he struggled to move on after this woman's deception, and could not figure out precisely why her lies had wounded him so badly. Yet he supposed wounds to one's pride took time to heal.

"Shame, I suppose, kept me from telling you. And feeling utterly stupid and humiliated over it all."

There was more, but Percival wanted to keep some things private. It helped, unburdening himself to Gwaine, but he did not have it in him to share his deepest thoughts and wants, such as his desire to fall in love with a woman who appreciated the same things he did, quiet times at home before the hearth, maybe reading and sitting close, and if she did not know how to read, he would teach her.

And he wanted a woman, _one_ woman whose body he would become familiar with, and he would learn her likes and dislikes, working hard to please her in every way possible. He wanted to lie in bed with that woman tangled up in his long arms and legs, and he would tell her how much he loved her. Hopefully, she would whisper how she loved him in return.

Why was that so difficult, finding a woman to love, one who might love him back? Then again, he had done nothing to encourage women's attention during the last year. What did he expect? That one would fall out of the sky and into his lap? One _had_ fallen into his arms in the corridor recently. If that was not some sort of sign, nothing was.

Gwaine polished off the rest of his ham slice. "Well, you shouldn't hold all that in. It'll give you a stomach ache or something. Might make your brain bleed." He waved his hand at Percival's plate. "Eat your damn ham. That'll help."

Percival chuckled, cut into his slice, and jammed a large hunk of salty pork into his mouth. He chewed, realizing his heart ached less than before. Gwaine had been right; holding in the hurt all this time had not helped at all. Yes, it had been awful being discarded by that woman with no explanation nor apology, but maybe it was time to try again and cut ties with the painful past. Brooding served no purpose.

"You're coming with me to the Gathering Day Festival the day after tomorrow, right?" asked Gwaine, kicking his feet up onto the dining table, resting his hands behind his head, appearing relaxed after his evening snack of ham and ale.

Gathering Day – the celebration of the summer solstice and the time to harvest mistletoe – was Percival's favorite festival of the year. "Sure. And I'll bring Rion. He'll love it."

"You really are attached to that little boy."

In an uncustomary move, Percival kicked his own feet onto the table and leaned back. "I really am."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Gathering Day

 _I am a coward. Spineless. Faint-hearted_ , thought Percival.

He had wandered by Fleur's chamber ten times this evening, but he could not bring himself to knock on her door. Tomorrow was Gathering Day, and Percival wanted to ask Fleur to join him and Rion at the huge festival held in the field in front of the Darkling Woods.

For the _eleventh_ time this evening, he paused in front of her door, prepared to knock, but at the last moment, lost his nerve and rushed away. Dear gods, Gwaine would laugh himself to death if he witnessed this. What would Gwaine do in this circumstance? Probably march himself right into the woman's quarters, grab her by the waist, and kiss her, _then_ inform the lady she would attend the celebration with him. Inform, not ask.

The blood beneath Percival's skin heated thanks to his nerves and perspiration dampened his underarms. Now hidden around the corner with his back pressed against the stone wall, he gave himself a pep-talk under his breath.

"You are a Knight of Camelot, trained in the ways of battle, able to cut down foes with ease. Besides, this is not a life-or-death matter. You can do this. You can. Right. So do it."

One last time, he rounded the corner just as Fleur and the other young nursemaid who shared her chamber wandered down the hallway. Like a threatened doe, he stood there with his mouth hanging open, frozen and speechless, his mind blank.

"Hello, Sir Percival." Fleur's cheeks flushed and she executed a deep curtsey before drawing closer. "I'm glad to hear Sir Gwaine is well."

 _Sir Gwaine? Who is that?_ "Yes, Gwaine!" he all but shouted, and Fleur and her friend flinched at his volume. Gods, he was a blundering dolt. "Sorry, yes, I'm just so pleased he's well."

"Are you on your way to the kitchens? I hear they have extra honey shortbread, a little burned, but still edible," said Fleur.

 _Ask her to go to the kitchens with you, you total arse! Collect some shortbread and ask her to Gathering Day!_ "Right, yes, I was headed there. I was just… I just paused for a stretch." Gods, he could not be any more pathetic if he tried.

She curtseyed again as her friend opened the door to their chamber. "Then have a good evening, Sir Percival."

"AreyougoingtoGatheringDaytomorrow?" he asked in a rapid rush, which made it sound as if he had spoken one long, unintelligible word, somewhat like a madman or a drunkard might.

The dark-haired friend rolled her eyes and strode into the chamber, leaving Percival and Fleur alone.

He cleared his throat and took a step forward. "I was wondering if you were going to the Gathering Day Festival tomorrow. I'm going."

"Yes, I'm bringing an adorable little girl from the nursery."

"Are you? I'm bringing Rion, the boy I train."

"Yes, I heard that you train him. That's wonderful." She glanced into her chamber. "Well… I'll see you."

"Yes. Tomorrow. At Gathering Day. I'll see you there."

He gave a shaky smile and wave as she entered her room and closed the door. That had not turned out as he had hoped. Really, what was it going to take for him to pull himself together, and should he even bother? A life alone might be easier.

XXXX

Percival took his seat beside Gwaine at the Round Table. King Arthur had called a late-night meeting with his knights and Merlin, which was tradition before festivals and gatherings. They needed to review security and patrol schedules for tomorrow. Though Percival and Gwaine were lucky enough to have Gathering Day off, they would still be expected to conduct themselves properly and keep an eye out for trouble, even if they were not officially on duty.

"Men, I realize we have been at peace for many months, ever since Morgana went missing, but this is not the time to grow complacent," said King Arthur. "Just yesterday, Sir Leon heard rumors about my half-sister being sighted in the kingdom of Amata, so keep that in mind. I realize Amata is far from us, and this may be only a rumor, but we should remain vigilant."

Many thought Arthur's half-sister, Morgana, the cruel High Priestess who had seized the throne from Arthur for a time, was dead, but she had gone missing before and returned more powerful than ever. The king was right; vigilance would be paramount.

Arthur carried on. "And let's remember our peace was shattered a few days ago when King Odin's men trespassed on our lands and nearly killed Sir Gwaine. Seeing them this far north troubles me, so we shall increase patrols to the south and southeast. Should we see any sign of Odin or his men, they will be brought here alive. I want to negotiate peace, not war, if that is at all possible. Sir Gwaine agrees with me."

Gwaine stood up. "I do agree. I didn't like being stabbed in the gut, and I wasn't sorry to see Odin's knights killed over it – thank you for helping with that Percival – but war should always be the last possible resort. If Odin will talk peace, we should, too."

As Gwaine took his seat, Percival patted him on the shoulder. Several of the knights viewed Gwaine as a carouser and inferior, but Percival knew better: Gwaine was a man of conviction, loyal, and smart. He loved being a Knight of Camelot and took his duties seriously. Percival was honored to be Gwaine's friend, even when the two of them bickered.

XXXX

"I love Gathering Day!" Gwaine sipped from a mug of mead on the warm afternoon of the summer solstice. "Love it, love it! Isn't it great, Rion?"

"Yes, Sir Gwaine, it is great." Rion, who sat perched high up on Percival's shoulders, nodded and grinned as he gnawed on a meaty spare rib.

Percival glanced up at the boy – whose entire face and hands were covered in grease – and laughed. Percival was grateful Idele had gotten over her initial hysteria about Rion's involvement in the confrontation with Odin's men and allowed the boy to train once again. _And_ spend the festival with Percival.

The day seemed almost perfect, the best solstice celebration Percival could recall. The drinks were cold, the selection of food endless, and the games, music, and entertainment were enjoyable. Jugglers, acrobats, fire breathers, and minstrels, were present, and game stations dotted the field, as well as the face painting tent.

"Oh!" Rion almost dropped his rib. "I want to get my face painted with a dragon! Can I, Sir Percival? Please?"

Percival glanced at the tent and spotted a long line of children snaking around the side, all waiting in the bright sunlight for their turns. But the children who emerged from the tent appeared thrilled with their designs – the boys mostly with dragon shapes and the girls with fairies – so how could Percival deny Rion?

"Face painting sounds good." Percival wandered his way over to the tent with Rion still on this shoulders. "Let's get you a spot in line."

"There's Mum and Dee waiting! Hello, Mum and Dee! Can I wait with them?"

Percival lowered Rion to the ground. The child flashed a grease-laden grin.

"You, Sir Rion, need your face wiped." Percival bent down, and with the front of his red tunic, wiped Rion's face clean.

"Eww." Gwaine wrinkled his nose. "Children are dirty."

Percival rolled his eyes. "Says the man whose socks stink so badly the stench might knock out a horse."

"That was one time! One time!"

"Can I go with Mum and Dee, Sir Percival?" asked Rion again.

Percival bent to wipe one last spot of grease from Rion's cheek. "Of course. Go on and I'll see you when you're done."

Rion raced off, and Percival rose and turned around, but a tiny blond-haired girl had tripped over his boot. He reached down and tried to grab her before she fell, but he lost his own footing and stumbled right over her. Gwaine caught the girl before she went down, but Percival ended up falling right into a woman's arms. However, she could not hold up his substantial weight, and they collapsed into the grass together. It took him a moment to realize he lay on top of Fleur.

During the last few days, Percival had fantasized about being in such a position with Fleur, but they were in his bed and comfortably settled beneath blankets, not lying on the grass with dozens of people looking on. Regardless, Percival, unable to control his physical reaction to being planted right on top of Fleur, grew aroused, but he prayed she did not feel his hardness against her thigh.

Percival gave a small shake of his head to clear his thoughts. "Fleur, are you all right? I am so sorry; I must be crushing you."

He tried to stand but his belt was caught on something. Glancing down, he noticed his buckle was locked with hers.

"Here, let me untangle us." He reached down at the same moment she did, but in the process of both of them trying to work free their buckles, her hands brushed against his hardness and he drew in a sharp breath. Fleur must have realized what she touched, because her face flushed the brightest shade of red Percival had ever seen.

"I didn't mean to…" she started.

"Not to worry. Just, erm, let me loosen my belt…"

"Do you two need help down there?" asked Gwaine, standing over them.

"No!" Percival returned his attention to the belt buckles. "Almost got it."

Percival gave one last yank, and the locked metal pieces came apart, but his hand flew up and his knuckles connected with Fleur's jaw. The clack of her teeth knocking together made him wince. Horrified, he remained on top of her and tipped her face to the side, examining the spot where he'd struck her.

"Fleur! I am so sorry. Did I hurt you very badly?"

She shook her head, then gave a cheerful laugh. Relieved Fleur had not been injured, Percival chuckled along with her. Struck by the ridiculousness of the situation, they both started laughing harder, still lying in the grass. The crowd of onlookers wandered off.

"I am fine." Fleur brought her laughter under control. "But how is my little Lila?"

"I have her here." Gwaine held the little girl's hand. The fair-haired toddler, clad in a pink dress, smiled. She seemed to enjoy all the commotion immensely.

Percival helped Fleur to her feet and dusted the grass off her breezy white tunic dress. "I'm embarrassed," he said. "What can I do for you? Please, anything, and it's yours."

Fleur ushered over Lila and took her hand. "Nothing at all. It was rather amusing. Except I'm sorry for, ah… When I accidentally…"

"Oh, it's forgotten!" _And please let us never mention it again!_ thought Percival.

Gwaine stepped forward and smiled at Fleur. "I'm Gwaine. And you are?"

Fleur, faced with a knight whom she was not acquainted, paled and curtseyed. "Fleur," she whispered, her eyes to the ground, as she clutched Lila's hand.

"What a pleasure to meet you! And how old are you, Fleur?"

"Nineteen, Sir Knight."

"Oh, no need for all this formality. Call me Gwaine." He dropped an arm around Percival's shoulder. "And how do you know my best mate here?"

Fleur kept her eyes lowered. "We bumped into each other outside his quarters recently, Sir… Gwaine. I'm new to the castle, a nursemaid, Sir… Gwaine."

"And how are you finding it here in Camelot?"

"I like it very much. Far better than Cornwall."

Gwaine gave a quick nod of his head. "Ah, Odin's lands." He stepped forward and crooked his finger, encouraging her to raise her head and look at him. With reluctance, she did. "You will find no better people than here in Camelot, and no finer knights. We conduct ourselves by the Knights' Code. I promise our men are nothing like his." He lifted the bottom of his tunic and exposed his recent knife wound. "This mark is thanks to Odin's knights."

"That's terrible." The corners of Fleur's lips tilted downward. "I'm acquainted with what Odin's knights are capable of."

Gwaine lowered his tunic. "I have no love for Odin, but we'd prefer peace with his kingdom. War causes tremendous damage, and that's not what we want for the people of Camelot, especially not lovely young ladies like you."

Percival clenched his jaw with frustration. Was Gwaine flirting with Fleur? He wooed women with such ease; why couldn't he have found someone else?

Gwaine patted Percival's shoulder. "My strapping friend here? You should have seen his sword work taking down Odin's knights. He was incredible; he saved me! Percival is the best knight and man I know."

Wait… Gwaine was not flirting; Gwaine was trying to promote Percival's good qualities, but he was going too far with the accolades.

"Right." Percival squeezed Gwaine's forearm so hard the man winced. "Anyway, Fleur, I think Gwaine might have enjoyed a touch too much mead and his tongue is loose."

Gwaine scoffed. "I've had barely half a mug!"

"Sir Percival!"

Rion ran up, a massive, intricate red dragon painted on his forehead and cheek, with the creature's tail ending on his chin.

"Look at this!" Rion pointed to his face as he peered up at Percival. "Isn't it great?" He did not wait for an answer. "Dee got a silly pink fairy."

Percival took in the artwork on Rion's face. "That's a ferocious dragon. But where did your mum and sister go?"

"Back home. Mum said she wanted a rest, but would come back tonight for the bonfire and the dancing."

Rion spun around and turned his attention to Fleur. "Whoa." He looked her up and down. "You look a little like a goddess."

"Rion!" said Percival. "It's not nice to stare."

"But she's tall, and her dress and hair..." Rion grinned and bowed. "Sorry, my lady."

A broad smile took over her face. "That is very sweet of you. And you're Rion?"

He pulled back his shoulders. "I am! Would you like to get a honey ball with me? I'd be happy to escort you and your girl."

Rion flashed a smile at Lila and she giggled, burying her face in Fleur's dress.

"I would love to go with you," said Fleur, "and I'm sure Lila would, too."

"Is she your daughter?" asked Rion.

"No, I'm a nursemaid and she is my lovely little charge today."

"This boy flirts better than I do," Gwaine whispered into Percival's ear. "You'd better stake your claim and fast."

Percival stomped on Gwaine's toes, and Gwaine bit back a cry.

"Fleur, will you care to join us for dessert?" asked Percival.

"Yes, I would. Thank you. I've never had a honey ball."

Fleur, Lila, Percival, Rion, and Gwaine made their way to the shade of the tall willow tree where the castle bakers had set up a large cauldron of oil. The oil bubbled over the flames of a makeshift stone hearth, and the bakers whipped up fresh batches of a new treat, honey balls. These circular dough rounds – the size of a chestnut – were fried in boiling oil. The dough cooked up in moments, but the bakers allowed them to cool before dropping them into stone bowls filled with crystallized honey and rolling them around.

Percival's group waited with the crowd of hungry onlookers, watching the bakers do their work. Once the new batch was ready, each person collected a treat. Lila tittered with approval as she chewed, her mouth and hands covered with powdery honey crystals.

"My, these are delicious," said Fleur, swallowing the last of her honey ball. A streak of powdery honey ran from her lower lip down her chin. The tip of her tongue ran across her upper lip, and Percival gaped at her. She made a simple act seem so… sensual.

However, rather than continue to stare rudely, Percival pointed at her face. "You, ah, have a little honey on your chin."

Fleur reddened and swiped at her chin, but missed the sticky spot, so Percival reached out and wiped away the residue, and could not help but allow his thumb to linger against her soft skin for a moment.

She smiled and met his eye. "You have honey on your nose."

Percival's hand shot up to his face. "I do?"

"Here, let me." With a gentle touch, Fleur flicked the errant honey crystals from his face.

A trumpet sounded, and Lila and Rion cheered. That meant the mistletoe harvest would begin soon. While Percival was no physician, he knew that mistletoe was valued by healers, and used in medicines and tinctures. Apparently, for reasons beyond him, the best time to harvest the parasitic plant was during the solstice. And whichever three groups collected the most would receive ten silver pieces and a box of honey balls, so competition would be fierce this year.

"Sir Percival, I have to get my basket! You're tall and can hold me up high to get the best branches! I'll gather _loads_ of mistletoe," declared Rion, racing off to collect his basket. The boy returned moments later.

Fleur went off to collect her little girl's tiny wicker basket, and the group reconvened by the edge of the Darkling Woods.

"Is anyone upset that we're not a family group?" asked Rion. "Because I don't mind."

"Pshaw!" Gwaine waved his hand dismissively. "Who says we're not a family? Family's where you find it!"

Something about Gwaine's words and the way he spoke them touched Percival. Percival stole a glance at Fleur; he sure would not mind a chance at a family with that sweet beauty.

The trumpet blared again, sounding the start of the gathering contest. Everyone knew that mistletoe favored growing on apple trees, so that was where most participants headed, right to the large grove of fruit trees close to the creek. Fearless and agile teenage boys were already climbing the trees and tossing down branches into baskets when Percival's group arrived.

"Wait, I know of a smaller copse of apple trees, but they're more hidden," said Percival. "Follow me."

They made their way deeper into the woods until they came upon a group of half a dozen leafy apple trees, all bursting at the top with mistletoe. Fortunately, the trees were not that tall, so the younger ones could be lifted to do the collecting.

Gwaine lifted Lila, while Percival held Rion up high. Since Percival was so tall and had an excellent reach, Rion was able to gather from close to the tops of the trees, and missed only a few thick branches of the succulent berries.

Fleur eyed the leftover mistletoe. "It seems a shame to leave those up there at the very top."

"I can lift you and you can grab them," Percival told her.

"Oh, no." Fleur shook her head and nibbled on a fingernail. "I'm too heavy to lift."

On a normal day, Percival would have taken lots of time to convince her he could lift her up with ease, ask for permission, wait for her to come around, and so forth, but not today. The joy of Gathering Day bolstered his spirits, so he wrapped his hands around Fleur's waist and lifted her up high. She let out a playful shriek.

"Go on, gather those last branches," said Percival. "And no, you are not too heavy. My battle-axe weighs more."

He wanted to keep his hands wrapped around her fine waist and admire the curvy, firm backside – positioned right near his face – all day, all night, and well beyond. But in moments, Fleur clutched the last of the mistletoe in her fists and Percival lowered her to the ground.

"Sorry, my thumb's caught in your belt," he said, which was only true because he made sure it was and wanted her close for a bit longer.

Finally, he let her go, but noticed her cheeks had flushed and she sounded a little breathless. He wondered if he had upset her by clinging to her, of if she felt something for him in return but was too shy to say. It did not matter, because now was not the time to discuss the issue, not when they would need to check in at the weigh station soon.

Fleur filled Rion's basket with her harvest, but he lay on the ground next to the container, fast asleep. Lila slept, too, in Gwaine's arms, her face pressed against his shoulder, her lips parted as she snored.

"Apparently, Gathering Day is quite exhausting," said Gwaine with a laugh.

The trumpet sounded again, indicating it was time to weigh the harvest. Rion and Lila woke and cheered as if they had not slept for a moment, and the adults laughed. Even if they could not be declared official winners, taking part had been good fun.

They collected the baskets and jogged for the scales set up near the face painting tent. Percival took a glance around at the contest participants' baskets, most of which overflowed with mistletoe. His group had no chance of winning, but it did not matter; they'd had a wonderful day regardless.

When the weigh-ins were done, it turned out Percival's group placed twenty-fourth out of one hundred, a respectable showing, and each child received a small sack of honey balls for their participation. Rion popped one sticky ball into his mouth, but handed his sack over to Fleur.

"Here you are, my lady."

"No, Rion, those are yours."

He shook his head. "I'm in training and Sir Percival said not to eat too many sweets. You can share them with your friends."

Fleur knelt down and hugged Rion. "You are such a fine young man and I have enjoyed spending the day with you. Will you visit me in the nursery some time?"

She remained bent down and spoke with Rion, while Gwaine pulled Percival aside.

"She is perfect for you and you like her," said Gwaine. "Do not muck this up."

"Who says I like her?"

"Please. A blind, deaf man could tell."

Fleur stood and faced Percival and Gwaine. "I have to return to the nursery, but today was lovely. Thank you all so much."

"The pleasure was ours." Gwaine jammed his elbow into Percival's ribs. "But I believe Percival forgot to ask you something."

Percival had no idea what Gwaine was talking about, but Fleur stared at Percival expectantly. Gods, what was he missing? What should he ask? There were so many questions he wanted to ask, personal ones, but none seemed appropriate at the moment.

"Erm, I wanted to ask if you enjoyed yourself today?" said Percival, sounding like a confused buffoon.

"I did, yes, thank you."

"Percival, Percival! Such a joker." Gwaine elbowed Percival in the ribs again, but harder this time. "My friend wanted to ask about the bonfire later. If you were coming."

Percival recovered quickly. "Yes! I meant to ask if you were coming back tonight, Fleur."

"Oh, I'm not sure."

"I would love it if you did," fell out of Percival's mouth before he could stop the words.

Fleur chewed on her bottom lip and took Lila by the hand. "Then yes, I will see you later."

With a nod and a smile, Fleur she left for the castle with her little charge in tow.

"Sir Percival, she's beautiful. And nice. You should marry her," said Rion.

Gwaine patted the boy on the back. "Very perceptive, Rion."

"Can we stop focusing on me?" said Percival with a scowl. "Can we focus on –"

"Mead?" asked Gwaine.

"Spare ribs?" asked Rion.

Percival let out a chuckle and lifted Rion onto his shoulders again. "Any and all of that sounds good to me."


	9. Bonfire Night

Chapter 9 – Bonfire Night

The sun set and darkness enveloped the field. King Arthur and the knights always made a big show of igniting the Gathering Day bonfire with a hail of blazing arrows shot right into the towering wood pile. This was Percival and Gwaine's one official duty for the night, and then they could relax again.

The festival attendees were escorted to the far side of the field on the off chance one of the knights missed his mark, but Percival had never seen that happen. And besides, they had all been practicing their shooting skills for weeks and weeks.

"Light up, men," called Arthur, and the knights dipped their arrows in the pit fire crackling in front of them. "Take aim… Loose!"

Twenty-five knights (including Percival, Gwaine, and Leon) fired into the heart of the pine-pitch soaked pyre before them, a structure three times taller than Percival. With a loud whoosh, the bonfire roared to life.

The attendees whistled and cheered with approval, then rushed the bonfire to get seats close to the musicians, who had already started playing festive tunes on their drums, pipes, and lutes.

Percival returned his bow to the rack and immediately set off to find Fleur. Rion sat in front of the fire on a blanket beside his mother and sister, clapping and stomping his feet to the music. Percival loved spending time with the boy, but he hoped to have at least a few moments alone with Fleur. Did she dance? Percival was not Camelot's most graceful dancer, as his long limbs often seemed to get in the way, but a dance would offer an opportunity to get close to Fleur, so he would try his best to not look like a bumbling fool.

Much to Percival's relief, Gwaine was already chatting with a few attractive young ladies from the Lower Town, which meant Percival was on his own for now. But as he drew close to the musicians, hoping to find her there, he caught sight of Merlin, who stared into the tall bonfire with a look of longing on his face. Percival paused by his friend's side.

"Evening, Merlin. Doing all right?"

As if in a deep trance, Merlin did not answer; he kept peering into the flames.

"Uh, Merlin?"

"What?" Merlin's head spun toward Percival. "Yes, fine. Just… thinking."

"I see that. You look sort of sad. Anything you want to talk about?"

"It's nights like these that remind me of a love I once had."

That was news to Percival. He had never seen Merlin with a woman and had never heard him speak of one.

"Is she… gone?" asked Percival.

"Yes. She died. I didn't know her that long, but that doesn't make my love for her any less." Merlin shook his head. "But it's not a night to be somber."

Percival dropped a hand onto Merlin's shoulder. "I am sorry. Losing a loved one is always painful."

"Very true… Can I give you some advice, Percival?"

"Please do."

"When you find love, hold onto its reins and do not let go for any reason."

Merlin's advice affected Percival deeply. Percival had spent the last several days trying to deny his growing feelings for Fleur. _It's too soon_ , he thought. _You do not know her well enough to be in love._ But from the moment she tumbled into his arms days ago, she had also tumbled into his heart. Percival had always found those songs and poems about love at first glance to be a little silly and unbelievable, but he found himself in that position now. However, he would keep this revelation to himself for the time being; knights did not parade around and confess their abiding love for women. Yet King Arthur often spoke of his love for Guinevere openly and without reservation…

Percival realized his hand still rested on Merlin's shoulder, and he drew back. "Good advice, Merlin. I'll heed it. Excuse me, but I'm off to find someone."

The orange glow from the bonfire illuminated Merlin's smile. How could he know what was in Percival's heart?

"Enjoy yourself tonight," said Merlin, before wandering off to see Gaius.

Percival waded through the crowd of dancers circling the bonfire. There was no sign of Fleur, so he walked among the sea of blankets where people sat or lay a little further away from the flames. Some of the young couples held hands and kissed, and Percival wished he was one of them, in love and close to the woman he cared for.

Distracted, Percival jumped when he felt a light touch on his back. He turned and saw Idele, smiling, her eyes bright with joy. She appeared relaxed and more carefree than Percival had ever seen her; the crease of worry that had knit her brows together was gone. She finally looked like the young woman she was as opposed to an overwhelmed widow.

"I'm sorry if I scared you." From the basket she held, she removed a flat cake and thrust the treat at Percival. "Here, this is for you. It's a new recipe I tried, an apple and nut cake. It's not enough, not nearly enough for all you've done for me and my family, but I wanted you to be the first to try it."

He accepted the cake and took a nibble. It was too delicious to not finish in a few bites, so Percival polished off the sweet, crisp baked good and grinned. "That was exceptional, Idele, thank you. But you owe me nothing. Rion has given me so much."

"Such as a headache?"

"Never," he said with a chuckle.

After a short pause, she gave him a wink. "I see it, you know."

"See what?"

"The love in your eyes. You've found someone special, haven't you?" With a wistful look full of longing, Idele sighed. "I recall feeling like that, with my husband. It was wonderful."

"I am certain one day you will feel that way again." He ignored her comment about his obvious yearning for Fleur. It did not thrill Percival to learn he was so easy to read.

"I'm not sure I want to. I'm happy holding his memory close to my heart and caring for my children. Does that make me strange?"

"No. For now, that's what you want. But be open to change. My good friend Merlin would tell you the same."

"That is probably sound advice I'm just not ready to hear." She coughed and patted her chest. "Go on and find your lady. Don't deny what was what you were doing, because I _know_ it."

With a slight bow, Percival took Idele's hand, kissed the back of it, then strode off to search the crowd again for Fleur. After circling the perimeter of the festivities and failing to find Fleur, he recognized his ineptitude. He should have offered to escort her to the bonfire. Why had he not thought of that earlier? Perhaps she was not comfortable walking from the nursery to the field alone, especially after her assault in Cornwall. He squared his shoulders and marched to the castle, determined to set this right.

Though the celebration had been going on for some time, people still wandered from the castle to the bonfire. Percival peered at each woman as she approached, trying to discern if it was Fleur, but it was difficult to tell in such low light. A few women must have been insulted that he examined them so closely, because they scoffed and quickened their pace to get away from him. And that was when he marched straight into someone. He grabbed the cloaked woman by the shoulders so she did not fall.

"My apologies. Very sorry."

The woman lowered her hood, and it was Fleur, with her long, silky blond hair loose. Neither of them could contain their laughter. How many times would they fall into one another?

"I was just coming to get you," said Percival, aware he sounded breathless and too eager.

"I had planned to come earlier, but one of the babes had a bit of an issue with excessive spit-up, so I had to change."

"That sounds like hard work, taking care of the little ones."

"It is." Despite the dark, Percival saw a smile spread across her face. "But it's what I love to do. I adore children."

Percival offered his arm. "Tell me all about what you like on the way to the fire."

With wide eyes, Fleur stared at the proffered arm for several heartbeats, as if making a life-or-death decision. Shaking, she reached out and wrapped her hand around Percival's elbow.

"What do you want to know?" she asked.

"You love children. What else?"

"Poems." Her voice wobbled a little as they walked. "Especially love poems, as I mentioned when we first met. And to be outdoors and read. I love to do that. There's something decadent about relaxing in the shade while reading."

"I agree. Though I have to find a private spot when I read outdoors. If the men caught me with a book of poems, they'd be relentless with their taunting."

"It can be hard. Hiding what you truly love. What you want…"

Percival wanted to hear more about her desires, but chose not to pressure her. "What else do you enjoy?"

"Swimming. I do love a good swim."

"So do I! It's one of my favorite things to do. I love the water, but not boats. I get awful seasickness."

Fleur grinned at him. "I get terrible seasickness, too. I took a ferry across the channel from Cornwall to Camelot, and the trip was not pleasant. I was…"

"Green?"

"Quite green."

"I've taken the same ferry," said Percival. "As a matter of fact, the last time I took it, there were rough seas and high winds. I may have gotten ill during the crossing. And I might have remained ill while on horseback. All the way home."

Fleur glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "You're different."

"How's that?"

"I have never known a man to be so honest and forthright. Most speak only of their prowess and virtues."

"Prowess and virtues?" He grinned at her. "How dull."

Fleur giggled as they approached the fire. A pack of musicians who stood close by played an upbeat song to which there was much wild dancing. In the distance, Percival spotted Gwaine dancing with three women at once, but Gwaine took a pause to drag a wary Merlin into the circle of frantic movement. At first, Merlin's steps were stiff and uncertain, but he loosened up fast enough.

Percival turned his attention from Merlin to Fleur. She was such a beauty, with that glowing complexion and wide-set, almond-shaped eyes the color of honey, which were set off by long, pale blond lashes. And when she smiled, it lit up her whole face and melted his heart.

And while her appearance appealed to him, surely, it was her kindness and gentle disposition that won him over. She was too wonderful to let slip away. Thus, he plucked up his courage and rested his hand on the small of her back. At first, Fleur stiffened, but relaxed after a moment.

"Would you care to dance with me?" asked Percival. "Though I warn you I'm not all that graceful. My jig is pretty awful."

Fleur gazed up at him. "We could. But I'm not that good, either."

Percival led her over to the pack of dancers, and as if the gods had answered his prayers, the musicians shifted into a slow song. Many of the dancers scrambled back to their blankets for a rest and drink, but a decent number of couples remained. Or in Gwaine's case, a trio, as he danced with two young ladies at once, and they both seemed pleased to be in his company.

After a cordial bow, Percival dropped one hand to Fleur's waist and grasped her right hand in his left, grateful that couples dances had become popular recently, as opposed to the usual chain or line dances.

Percival and Fleur moved in a slow circle, ignoring all others, holding one another's gaze the entire time. Percival had never been fond of dancing, but this evening, caressed by warm summer breezes, drinking in Fleur's beauty and shy smiles, he could not recall a better night. And as they swayed on the field, he pulled her closer, right to his chest. This time, she did not flinch.

The touch of Fleur's soft body pressing against him and the delicate perfume of her lavender-scented hair oil filling his senses, Percival recalled Merlin's words: "When you find love, hold onto its reins and do not let go for any reason."

"Fleur." He bent down and her lips were a mere finger's width away from his. "May I kiss you?"

This was a risk, Percival knew that. She might not be ready, or she might not care about him as much as he cared for her. It was possible this was too much too fast, or that he was scaring her. Had she kissed a man since her attack? Had she ever kissed a man? Doubt started to creep in the longer it took her to respond.

"Can it be a quick one?" she asked shyly. "I've not had a kiss before and I'm a little afraid."

"I don't want you to feel pressured. We can wait."

Though disappointed, he smiled at her and straightened, but Fleur stood on her toes and pressed her lips to Percival's. The kiss was more of a peck and lasted all three heartbeats, but a flood of pure joy washed over him, unlike anything he had ever experienced. The sensation left him disconcerted and elated all at once. How was it possible to feel so much from such brief and chaste contact?

Fleur pulled back, a look of uneasiness on her face, and she appeared unsteady on her feet. The magical moment was over.

"Sir Percival, I must go."

"Wait." He reached for her, but she took a giant step back and avoided his touch. "Did I do something wrong? Did I frighten you?"

The tears shining in her eyes caught the firelight. "No. You're the first man in a long time who hasn't. But I have to go."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and ran back to the castle. Percival stood there, dumbfounded, and watched her go, not the slightest idea what he had done wrong. Was he simply hopeless with women?

Lively music played again, and Percival found himself standing in the center if a crowd of energetic dancers. He pushed his way out, his eyes still fixed on Fleur; she was at the castle steps now.

"What happened there?"

It was Gwaine, a look of concern etched on his face.

"I don't know. One moment we kissed, and the next she ran away from me."

"Then what are you doing standing here?" Gwaine gave Percival a rough shove. "Go after her."

"She ran off. Obviously, she has her reasons. I should let her be."

Gwaine spun Percival toward him and grabbed the back of Percival's neck, forcing his head down. "Listen to me: This is your problem; you're too reticent when it comes to women. Go to her now. _Now_ is the time, not next week or next year. Standing there like a wounded lummox won't help."

Gwaine's observation angered Percival, but the man was all too right. This was what Percival did when he felt rejected, he retreated. But not tonight. He would face the possibility of Fleur's rejection and carry on, regardless of the outcome.

"You're right," said Percival.

Wasting no time, he jogged to the castle, bounded up the entry steps, and rushed his way to Fleur's chamber. He did not pause when he arrived, and he banged on her door with his closed fist, hoping that young nursemaid with whom she shared the small bedchamber was still at the bonfire.

No one came to the door, and it was quiet within. Percival knocked one more time, and when there was no response, he slowly wandered away. What had started out as a wonderful night had shifted into misery. Forget the bonfire; he would lock himself in his chamber and not answer for anyone, not even Gwaine.

Approaching a shadowy section of the empty corridor, the soft sounds of a woman crying met his ears. It was Fleur; he recognized the timbre of her voice. She sat on the floor with her back to the wall, her arms wrapped around her bent knees, her head lowered. Percival made his way over and sat right beside her.

"Please, Fleur, tell me what's wrong. What did I do?"

With red, puffy eyes, she glanced at him. "Oh, it's not you."

"It it's not me, then what is it?" Percival dared to reach over and take her hand in his. "Maybe I can help."

Fleur let out a shaky, humorless laugh. "If only you could. If anyone could…"

"How bad can it be?"

"It's embarrassing. And very private, not something I've shared with anyone." She pulled her hand from Percival's and stood, dusting off her dress as she got to her feet. "Tonight was a beautiful night, Sir Percival, and I don't want to ruin it."

He hopped up. "I need you to call me Percival. Please."

"All right. Percival." She tucked a stray blond hair behind her ear. "I feel as if I can trust you, but when I tell you this about me, this secret, it will change the way you see me. Do you mind if we talk about it tomorrow? I'd like to preserve the memory of this pleasant night."

"Of course. Whatever you want. But it can't be so bad. And it won't change my opinion of you."

"I…" Fleur did not finish her statement; she simply gazed up at Percival and studied his face as if trying to commit his features to memory. "Can we talk tomorrow?"

"Yes. I have patrol until late afternoon, but any time after that."

She nodded and wandered toward her chamber.

"Fleur?" He rushed to her side before she opened her door. "Whatever you tell me, it won't change what I think of you. Or how I feel about you. And I feel… a lot."

She gave him a watery smile. "Let's wait until tomorrow and see what you think."

Fleur rested her palm against his cheek, and he placed his hand on top of hers. He did not want to say goodnight and was dying to hear her story, but he respected her wishes. Tomorrow, he would know more. And no matter what, he would still want her.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. You Live; You Learn

Chapter 10 – You Live; You Learn

"Percival? Are you suffering from an irritated arse or something?"

"What?" snapped Percival, tightening his grip on his horse's reins, as he and Gwaine finished their final loop around the western path of the Darkling Woods.

"You've been shifting around in the saddle all day like you have a burr caught in your breeches."

"There is no _burr_ in my breeches. I'm just... anxious for patrol to end."

This had been the longest patrol in Percival's memory. Normally, he loved riding along the western path of the woods, taking in the lush beauty the forest offered. But today, all he wanted to do was return to the castle and speak with Fleur. He had to learn what was troubling her so deeply.

Gwaine reined his horse to a halt beside Percival. "I think you should be impressed with me."

"And why is that?"

"Because we have been out here all day, and I have not asked you once about what happened with Fleur last night. Not once! I deserve an award or commendation of some type."

"Gwaine? Can I ever have a moment's peace with you around?"

"No. Now tell me what happened!"

"Fine, but there's not much to tell. Fleur and I are meeting after my patrol. She didn't want to tell me what upset her last night, but she assured me I had done nothing wrong."

"What do you think it is?"

"I'm not sure." Percival urged his horse forward, and Gwaine followed. "Something personal. Something I will _not_ be sharing with you afterward, so do not ask about it later."

"Fine. But pull that burr out of your breeches. You're a cranky bastard today."

"Wait, Gwaine. I know you mean well. Sorry for being snappish."

"That's all right. You'll buy me a tankard of ale later and all will be well."

Percival chuckled. Of course it would.

XXXX

Patrol was over, and Gwaine grabbed Percival's steed by the bridle once they reached the castle stables. "I'll take care of your beast. Go see your woman, friend, or whatever she is to you."

Rather than object or argue, Percival sped across the courtyard and took the castle steps two at a time. He went to his bedchamber to change out of his chainmail and wash up, as he did not want to present himself to Fleur damp with sweat while smelling like horse dung.

Having finished his ablutions with speed, he rushed off to the nursery, which was located on the main level of the castle, right near the gardens. Percival had seen the little ones planting and harvesting in a small patch set aside for them, and had chuckled when a toddler shoved a handful of mint leaves into her mouth. Apparently, she had not found the taste pleasing, because she allowed her green spittle to dribble from her mouth and onto her clean white dress.

Percival had always appreciated children and found them amusing and enjoyable to be around. They seemed so full of life and adoration for all things new and exciting.

Percival stood in front of the open double doors to the nursery. He had peeked inside before, but this was the first time he studied the spacious, airy room closely. This looked like a wonderful place for young children to spend time. One corner seemed to be the nap area, and that was where the cots and cradles stood, all made up with soft bedding. The opposite corner held toys, such as wooden building blocks, cloth dolls, riding-stick horses, puppets, rattles, and hoops. There were even small wooden figurines of knights, and that made Percival grin. And the room was flooded with sunlight from the tall windows that faced the garden.

While taking in the nursery, Lila, the adorable toddler with whom Percival had spent Gathering Day, appeared before him.

"You _big_!" She held up her arms and opened and closed her tiny fists. "Up, up, up?"

Fleur, a baby boy nestled against her hip, made her way over. "Lila would like you to pick her up."

"Oh, yes." Percival scooped up Lila into his arms. "And how old are you, little princess? I forgot to ask at Gathering Day."

She held up five fingers, but Fleur corrected the little girl so only two fingers remained up.

"Ah, two is a fine age," Percival told Lila, and she giggled.

"Big, big, knight." Lila reached out and squeezed his nose. "Knight nose."

Lila must have found this hysterical, because she began laughing and would not loosen her tight grip. She was strong for such a tiny thing.

"Lila, let go," ordered Fleur in a kind voice.

Lila did as she was told, then popped her thumb into her mouth, and rested her head against Percival's chest, as if she had known him forever. "I take nap," she insisted.

"Do you mind bringing her over to her cot? The one closest to the window?" asked Fleur. "It's time for their afternoon nap."

"Not at all." He carried Lila to her cot and tucked her in.

Fleur and the other nursemaids settled the children and babies into their resting spots, while Percival remained close to Lila.

"I like knight," said the little girl, before rolling over and closing her eyes.

"These little ones warm your heart, don't they?" asked Fleur, who now stood at Percival's side. "It's hard to not fall in love with them."

"They are sweet."

"Fleur?" an older nursemaid called from across the room. "Your shift ended ages ago. Why don't you go on?"

"Yes, ma'am," Fleur replied.

Fleur removed her apron and coif, placed them in what appeared to be her cubby, then shook her locks free. She went around and kissed each child tenderly on the cheek, bid her fellow nursemaids a good day, and ushered Percival out into the corridor. More than ever, he was impressed by her goodness, the kindness with which she treated everyone around her. What could be so wrong she was ashamed to confess it?

"Where would you like to go to talk?" he asked, as they made their way slowly down the corridor and to the front exit of the castle.

"Somewhere private. Would you mind that creek by the copse of yew trees beyond the castle wall? It's usually quiet there. That's the spot where I read."

"That's a perfect idea."

They ambled toward their destination in the bright late-afternoon sunlight, but a few steps into their walk, tears came to Fleur's eyes. She tried to brush them away surreptitiously, but Percival noticed her distress. His heart ached for her, but he said nothing; they walked in companionable silence until they came upon their spot. Percival had always found this place in the woods to be a magical location, with the crisp scent of fresh water and greens prominent and soothing, a shady and peaceful place where one might escape the cares of the world.

"Shall we sit?" he asked. "Sorry, I didn't think to bring a blanket."

Fleur nodded and took a seat before the bubbling creek. "Yes. Let's sit and I'll tell you my issue."

Percival wondered what this could be. Was she married? No, she mentioned she'd never shared a kiss with a man before. Perhaps she was gravely ill! But no, she appeared to be in perfect health. It could be money troubles, but those were easily remedied, or at least Percival had the ability to remedy them. He was not wealthy, but he had little occasion to spend his wages, so unless she owed an alarming sum, he could fix this. But maybe there was a betrothal issue, or perhaps she was already in love. His mind spun with the possibilities.

"I am not a whole woman," said Fleur, staring at the water.

Percival glanced at her profile. What did she mean? She had all her limbs and body parts, each one of which was beautiful and blemish-free, and no scars marred her skin.

"I cannot have children." Fleur bowed her head.

That was not as awful as Percival had imagined. "I see. Forgive me if this is an inappropriate question, but how do you know that for sure?" He was no expert in women's reproduction, but he had heard many stories about women being declared barren only to go on and have healthy children.

A hot red tint climbed up Fleur's neck and settled on her cheeks. "I don't have a regular woman's cycle. When I was sixteen, I went to the midwife. She examined me and said my womb is not right. It's too small and not angled properly."

"That must be upsetting for you. You said how you love children. But I don't understand why that made you so sad last night. Why did you run away from me?"

"Percival, let's be realistic; no man wants a woman who can't bear children. I can never marry. It would not be fair, so I keep my distance from men. You're the first I have gotten close to. Ever. Not that you would want to marry me!" she added hastily.

But he would. And regardless of her inability to carry children, he still wanted her. But how to say this without scaring her off, or sounding like a needy, love-struck fool?

"Fleur…" He threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed. "From the moment you toppled into my arms last week, I felt something for you. It was immediate and overpowering. I am sorry you can't carry a child, truly, but I still… care for you and would very much like to be part of your life."

 _And I love you. And hope I can convince you to marry me,_ he thought, but kept those notions to himself.

"Percival, why would you want to waste your time with me if nothing can come of it? Unless…" She cleared her throat. "Unless you want me for other purposes."

Unsure of what she meant, he stared at her in confusion. "I don't understand." But then the answer struck him: Fleur thought he might want to use her for sex.

"No." He squeezed her hand and looked directly at her. "That's not how I am. But since you've been open with me, I will tell you, I have known a woman before. But I did not use her; it was not like that at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. I ended up hurt by the arrangement. But I'm not ready to go into the details, if that's all right with you. Unless you really want to know."

She squeezed his hand in return. "Only when you're ready to speak of it. But this woman… Do you still care for her?"

"No. Not in the slightest. I thought I made myself clear." He removed his hand from hers and cupped her chin. "I care for you."

He leaned in and pressed mouth to hers. Percival allowed the kiss to linger, savoring the softness of her full lips against his. Fleur's mouth tasted like mint with a hint of clove. She would have to be the one to break the kiss, for he would not.

When she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, he was unable to resist brushing his tongue against her plump lower lip. She opened her mouth slightly, and their tongues touched. For an instant, all was calm and the kiss gentle, but somehow, Percival found himself stroking his tongue against Fleur's, and she responded in kind. She inched toward him rested her hands on his chest.

Percival dropped his hands from her face and slid them up and down her arms as their kissing intensified. But when a stiff breeze blew across the ground, Fleur pulled away, as if drawn back to her senses. But damn, that kiss had been all-consuming and Percival wanted more. He wondered if Fleur felt the same.

"Too much?" asked Percival, worried about her reply.

Fleur's fingers went to her lips. "No. I-I didn't realize it could be like that, gentle, but" – her face flushed red – "exciting. I thought that part of me might never be brought to life."

"You are a rare and incredible woman, Fleur, and that kiss… What does it tell you? Doesn't it prove we should be together?"

Her gaze slid to her lap. "I'm not ready yet. I need more time. Can we be friends for the moment? But perhaps more later?"

Percival's heart sank. How could she want a mere friendship after that? But perhaps this was for the best; they would move slowly, she would understand his intentions toward her were honest, and she would come 'round. Fleur needed time, and that was fine with him. All right, this was a good start, not ideal, but they were moving in the right direction together.

"Friends for now," he said, "but with the option for more later. However, if you want to be friends who kiss, I wouldn't object to that."

Fleur flashed a lighthearted smile and playfully slapped at his arm. "I will consider that. But later."

"All right. And Fleur? Thank you for telling me about your problem. And it does not change my feelings for you, just as I said."

Her smile faded. "But you shouldn't marry someone like me. It would not be fair to you. You deserve children, Percival. You're good with them."

"One can always adopt. Plenty of children need good homes."

"Most men don't find that adequate. They're concerned with bloodlines and all…"

"I was an orphan, Fleur. My family was killed by King Cenred's men when I was eight. Owen, an elderly farmer, took me in. I understand the importance of adoption. And besides, I'm a commoner by birth and not concerned with bloodlines and lineage."

He took her hand a pressed a brief kiss to the back of it. "We have much to learn about one another, but we have plenty of time. There's no rush. I'll be your friend for as long as you'll have me in your life," he added.

"I like having you in my life," she whispered.

"And I like you in mine."

XXXX

"And why have you purchased not one, but _two_ tankards of ale for me, Percival?" asked Gwaine above the tavern chatter, as the two men sat at the bar of the Rising Sun that evening. "This is a rare treat."

"I am in a fine mood, and you're a fine friend, so I bought you some ale. What's so odd about that?"

"You're awfully cheerful tonight is all. I take it the conversation with Fleur went well?"

"Quite well."

"But you're not about to share the details with me?"

"Not as of yet, no."

"Fair enough."

Gwaine and Percival sipped from their tankards when the door to the tavern opened and in strode the last person Percival wanted to see: _that woman_ – the one whose name he refused to even think of – her hands supporting her pregnant belly, her husband guiding her to an open table.

"Damn it," grumbled Percival, spinning in his seat to make sure his back was to the woman.

"What's wrong?" asked Gwaine.

"It's the woman I told you about."

Gwaine, the master at hiding sidelong glances, took a quick peek over his shoulder. "I see her appeal… nice looking woman. But she's a right bitch. Better to be done with her."

Part of Percival wanted to leave, but why should he? He had every right to enjoy a drink at the Rising Sun. He would not allow some duplicitous woman he had once known run him off.

He took several long drinks from his tankard and picked at the small pile of roasted nuts he and Gwaine had ordered. But what if she approached him? She would not dare, would she? If she did, he would behave as if he had never known her.

Gwaine was right; she was a bitch, and Percival had never thought that about any other woman. Well, except Morgana, Arthur's usurping half-sister, because she _was_ a murderous bitch.

"Let's order another round, Gwaine."

"Yeah?" Gwaine smiled with delight. "Excellent!"

 _Forget that woman_ , he thought. For the first time in a long time, Percival's life was going damn well and he would enjoy himself.

 _That woman_ did not approach him, and he never turned to look at her.


	11. The Winds of Autumn

Chapter 11 – The Winds of Autumn

"Rion, you are doing so well. I'm proud of you. Do I tell you that enough?"

This was the first time Percival and Rion trained together with actual swords. Blunt swords, but they were metal and not the wooden training weapons they had used until this point. Rion had been sword training for two whole months, and refreshing autumn winds cooled the afternoons, making their exercises less strenuous.

"Yes, Sir Percival, you always tell me I'm doing a good job. And I am trying really hard."

"You are. You're more devoted than most of the men!"

"And I am closer to being a man now." Rion sheathed his small sword in the scabbard attached to his belt. He then sat on the grass and did his final stretches.

Percival got down in the grass beside him and stretched out his long legs. "What do you mean?"

"Today's my birthday, Sir Percival. I'm seven."

"Rion! Why didn't you tell me before?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands. "I don't know."

It was Rion's birthday and Percival hadn't known, had never thought to ask. He hadn't even purchased the boy a small gift. He needed to set this right. This evening was a knights' supper, and since it was Rion's birthday _and_ he had been training for two months straight, Percival would bring him as a guest. And if for some reason King Arthur did not approve of the boy's presence, Percival would not attend the meal and convince Gwaine not to go, either. Then they would have a… modified knights' supper. In Percival's chambers. Not exactly ideal or exciting, but it would have to suffice.

"Rion, can you join me for supper with the knights and king tonight? We can ask your mother for permission together."

Rion's jaw dropped and he stopped stretching. "I can go to the supper? You mean it? I thought you were joking about that when we started."

"I am a man of my word, Rion. Come, let's see your mother now and convince her to allow you to be my guest."

Percival hoped King Arthur would permit Rion to attend.

XXXX

King Arthur let out a long laugh. "You want to bring this young boy to supper tonight, Percival? Sure, why not? But if he goes to his mother and tells her all about the foul language and bawdy jokes, that's on your head, not mine."

"Yes, sire, of course. And thank you."

Relieved by Arthur's decision, Percival made his way back to his chamber to change clothes. Idele had already agreed to allow Rion to come to supper tonight, and Percival was glad it was to be a real supper, not a half-meal in Percival's chamber.

After washing up and changing into a fresh tunic and his knights' cloak, Percival waited for Fleur to visit. They saw each other every day, he and Fleur, and their connection had grown stronger, as had their friendship. And Percival's love for Fleur had deepened, too. They knew so much about one another now, after all their long walks and leisurely meals together. Though they had shared no more passionate kisses like that one they had shared weeks ago, Percival occasionally draped an arm around her when they walked through the castle gardens or the Darkling Woods, and she would often kiss him goodnight on the cheek.

During their many conversations, Percival had told Fleur about his childhood, the death of his parents and sister, and his years living with his foster father, Owen. In turn, Percival learned that Fleur's parents had refused to leave Cornwall, King Odin's barbarous kingdom, and her parents never wrote once she left – they disagreed with her departure to Camelot – so she often _felt_ like an orphan. And her only sibling, a much older brother, had left for adventure in the far northern lands of Albion, and she had not heard from him since she was a child.

So it turned out they were very much alike, Percival and Fleur, shy at heart and somewhat lonely, yet they both loved their jobs and being around children. Percival adored her and pictured a future with her as his wife, despite the fact everyone but Merlin would allege it was too soon to think like that. And while others' opinions about his love life did not concern him all that much (perhaps a little), he was more worried about rushing Fleur. At this point, she would not even agree to a courtship, let alone marriage, because she did not want to "burden" him with her "issue."

The gentle, pleasant sound of Fleur's voice echoing down the hallway pulled him back into the present. Little giggles from her charges came next. This had become Percival and Fleur's evening routine; when he was not out on patrol or away from the castle on the king's business, Fleur stopped by Percival's room with the children from the nursery. Mostly, by evening time, few children were left in Fleur's care, perhaps one or two, if their parents had to travel, or if a mother was otherwise occupied or ill.

Percival recognized one little voice, Lila, as he had seen her many evenings recently because her mother had been suffering from a stubborn head cold, and Fleur was all too happy to offer care. The other voice sounded like a little boy around the same age as Lila.

Percival peeked his head out his door and said, "Boo!"

Lila jumped and squealed just as she did every time they played this game. Following Lila's lead, the little boy did the same. And as always, Fleur met Percival with a bright smile.

"Good evening, Sir Percival." Around others, even children, she referred to him as Sir Percival, although he had told her she did not have to. But in private, she called him Percival. She called him Percy once following a late-night supper, and he loved that, but she had never done it again.

"Glad to see you for a visit this evening, Lila," said Percival. "Come in and bring your friend."

Lila grabbed the boy's hand and toddled into the room. "Friend is Lew," she insisted.

Percival bent down and extended his arm. "Hello, Lew."

"Sir Purple?" asked the boy, clutching Percival's forearm.

That was what many of the children had taken to calling Percival, because the little ones found Percival's name too long and difficult to pronounce. Gwaine thought that was hilarious, but once Percival encouraged the children to call Gwaine "Sir Green," Gwaine made less of an issue of it.

"Close, Lew," said Percival, "very close."

Percival had learned from the first visit to childproof his room. On that first day, a little girl had gotten her hands on his sword belt – which he had left draped over the back of a dining table chair – and another girl dumped an entire pitcher of strong mead down the front of her dress. Thank goodness she had not drunk it.

And what's more, Percival always made sure his chamber door remained ajar during these visits. He did not want Fleur's virtue called into question.

"We sit at biiiggg table and play toys!" said Lila, and she and Lew clambered onto the chairs. The children loved sitting at the long oak table, and Percival left out knucklebones, colorful stones, and small, carved figurines of knights he had picked up at the market. The toys usually kept the children occupied, and gave Fleur and Percival a chance to talk.

Percival motioned for Fleur to take a seat on a cushioned chair beside him. They kept their eyes on Lila and Lew, just in case.

"How was your day?" he asked, as he always did, and because he cared.

"Very tiring! We brought the children apple picking today and we're all exhausted. But the thought of the resulting apple tarts makes it worth the effort. And what about you?"

"A council session this morning, and then training with Rion this afternoon. I found out it's his birthday today."

"It is?" Fleur gasped. "I didn't know."

"Nor did I. I need to find a gift for him before the knights' supper tonight. King Arthur said I could bring Rion."

"Aren't those suppers a little…?"

"Wild? They can be. But I've told the men to behave themselves this evening. Not sure if they'll listen."

"Oh, I hope so," said Fleur, smiling. "But can I make a suggestion about a gift for you to give Rion?"

"Please. I need the help."

"Do you have anything personal you'd be willing to part with? Old jewelry? Anything like that? I see how Rion looks up to you. It doesn't need to be anything of value."

Percival glanced at the ceiling as he considered this. He had never been one to wear jewelry, but after his, Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan's official knighting ceremony, Arthur had given the four of them thin, scarlet-colored bracelets of braided hemp. Percival's was too small, so he never wore it, but what about giving it to Rion? Percival hated the thought of the bracelet sitting tucked away in his bedside drawer; this would be perfect to give the boy.

Percival crossed to his bedside table and rummaged around. He found the bracelet in the back of the drawer, good as new.

"What about this?" He handed it over to Fleur. "King Arthur gives these bracelets to his new knights, but it never fit me. Do you think Rion would like it?"

Fleur admired the braided hemp. "Oh, he would, and the fact it comes from you will make him love it even more."

Percival bent down and kissed her brow. "Have you given any more thought to what we discussed yesterday? The question I posed?"

She handed back the bracelet and lowered her gaze. "I have."

"And I assume by the tone of the voice your answer is no?"

Yesterday, and for what seemed like the twentieth time, Percival had asked Fleur what she thought of an official courtship between them. Immediately, she had said no, and explained once again she did not want to "burden" Percival with her "issue." And for the twentieth time, he explained her issue was not an issue for him at all, and asked her to consider his question seriously and not dismiss it out of hand.

"I've told you why the answer is no, Percival. Please don't take it personally."

How could he not?

"Fleur?" said Lila from her seat at the table. "I be very tired. And Lew be tired, too."

Fleur rose and Percival caught her hand. "I will wait for you," he said. "However long that takes. When it comes to you, I am the most patient man who ever lived."

"I appreciate that."

"Wait before you go…" Percival pulled her close and kissed the very corner of her mouth. "Spending time with you is a gift," he whispered. "I adore you."

He still had not told her he loved her, but how could she not sense it?

Little Lila broke the spell by covering her mouth and giggling. "You two is kissing kissing!"

"Oh, Lila!" Fleur scooped her up. "It was a friendly kiss. Now, since you're tired, let's get you and Lew some supper and then you can take a rest."

Fleur urged Lew to join her, and she smiled over her shoulder at Percival. "Have a good evening, Sir Percival."

"You, too, Fleur. And I'll see you tomorrow night. And I'll ask the same question. I won't stop asking."

He watched her leave the chamber, wanting her more than ever, wishing he could convince her to be his, and soon.

XXXX

"To Rion! A happy birthday to a very fine young man!" announced King Arthur, standing at the head of the long dining table in the Great Hall at the beginning of the knights' supper.

The dining table was so tall that Rion could not see over its edge, so the boy had to sit in Percival's lap, and Rion vibrated with excitement.

The servants presented leek and mushroom soup to start, and next would come the roast venison with cherry sauce, and for dessert, they would have apple tarts. But Rion did not seem to care at all about the food. With a smile of awe on his face, he gazed up at the king.

"Thank you very much, Your Highness," said Rion in a clear, mature voice. "I am honored to be here."

The men loved having Rion present, and all chuckled over the boy's formality. Even Elyan was at the supper – seated to Rion's right – but this was his brief stop back in Camelot before a longer trip to the Western Isles to see if a stronger alliance could be forged.

"So, young man, I remember you," said Elyan, after tasting his soup. "How is training with Sir Percival?"

"I remember you, too, Sir Elyan!" Rion was not bothering with his food at all, but took an occasional sip of his barley water. "You helped save me from the Dorocha. Will you be home for good soon? Sir Percival said you've been traveling."

"After this journey, I hope to be home for a good long while."

Percival and Elyan smiled at one another and traded a look. They would converse tonight about travels and adventures, but the one topic they would not broach was Sir Lancelot. Lancelot had sacrificed himself at the Veil. His death sealed the Veil at the Isle of the Blessed, sending the Dorocha back to the Spirit World, thus saving Camelot. Almost a year after Lancelot's passing, the knights still could not speak of him without choking up. So instead of bringing up his name, they bore their grief in silence, though Percival often wondered if that was the right way to handle the loss.

Percival took a moment to recall his friend Lancelot. Right after Percival's foster father died, Percival sold his farm for next to nothing and drifted from village to village for months. By chance, he and Lancelot met while hunting in the woods; they'd both had their crossbows trained on the same hare. Lancelot shot the animal and split it with Percival. While the meat roasted over a small campfire, Percival and Lancelot became fast friends, swapping stories about their past and sharing their dreams for the future. Lancelot invited Percival to Camelot, Percival joined him, and that had been that.

Thus, holding in his feelings about the death of his friend and former traveling companion sometimes made Percival's stomach burn.

However, this was not the time to become choked up. This was Rion's birthday celebration and a time to be merry. Percival would tuck away the memories of Lancelot for another day.

Meanwhile, Gwaine tore a round of brown bread in half and tossed a chunk at Elyan, who sat across the table. "Dear Elyan! How were your journeys? And how about the women? Did you fornicate with –"

Percival clapped his hands over Rion's ears. "Gwaine, stop it," growled Percival. "Rion does not need to hear this."

"I meant, ah, did you… _hug_ many women during your travels? Yes," said Gwaine with a smirk, "that's what I meant!"

"Gwaine," replied Elyan, "I didn't have time for all that. I had actual work to do."

"I have work, too, but I fit in plenty of time for forni– _hugging_."

"And you want to tell us how many times you _hugged_ last night, don't you?" said Elyan.

Gwaine took a gulp from his flagon. "I _hugged_ twice."

"And was that with two different women or one, since I am sure you'd like us all to know?" asked Elyan with sarcasm.

"One!"

Rion chimed in. "I like hugging," he said with a serious look on his face, and Gwaine laughed so hard he fell off the bench.

Sir Leon, who sat close to the head of the table, cast Gwaine a stern glare. "Gwaine, can you comport yourself, please?"

"Sir Percival, what's so funny?" asked Rion.

"Sometimes, Gwaine suffers from a grave mental affliction called asininity," said Elyan.

"Is that very serious, Sir Elyan? Asininity?"

Now, the entire table roared with laughter; even Percival could not control himself, and the knights and king laughed until tears ran down their faces.

Rion peered around, confused, but Percival patted him on the back. "Rion, eat your soup before it grows cold."

The men and Rion enjoyed the rest of their meal. Gwaine tried to sneak Rion a sip of strong wine, but Percival stopped his friend. Once dessert ended, King Arthur and most of the knights wandered off to the king's solar, but Gwaine, Leon, Percival, and Elyan remained behind with the child.

"Rion, I have a small gift for your birthday." Leon slid a stone across the table, one sculpted into the shape of a sword – the length of a pointer finger – and incredibly detailed. "I hope you like it."

Rion picked up the gift and studied it, gasping with appreciation. "It's excellent. Thank you, Sir Leon."

With a nod, Leon left the table.

Next Elyan handed over a gift, a pair of leather sword gloves, and Rion pulled them on right away. Gwaine offered a gift, too, a scarlet knights' cloak, one that looked just like the one King Arthur's knights wore, but short enough to fit Rion. The boy draped it over his shoulders and affixed the clasp.

"How did you manage that?" Percival asked Gwaine.

"Shush! I had a little help from a pair of shears."

"Thank you very much, Sir Elyan and Sir Gwaine. This is the best birthday I've ever had."

"I have something for you, Rion," said Percival, but suddenly, this small bracelet seemed insufficient. However, it was all he had, so Percival tied it around Rion's wrist. "King Arthur gave it to me when I became a knight, but you're important to me, so now it's yours."

Rion held up his arm and stared at his wrist, saying nothing. Percival wondered of perhaps the boy did not like it, but Rion twisted around in Percival's lap and threw his arms around him.

"I love it," said Rion, his voice muffled against Percival's chest. "It was yours and I will wear it forever. This is my favorite gift." Rion lifted his head and glanced at Gwaine and Elyan. "I love your presents, too, but I really love this one."

Percival's heart swelled with affection for this little boy. If Percival was ever somehow blessed with a son, he hoped the child would be just like Rion.


	12. That Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Here we are, on to chapter 12, not quite at the halfway point of the story, but getting there. I have actually finished writing this story and am now polishing/editing.
> 
> And thank you, DreamsInNovember, for your wonderfully kind and uplifting review. 
> 
> Oh, and there's a quick end note at the bottom of the chapter. Onward we go!

Chapter 12 – _That Woman_

A week later, during the late evening hours, Percival approached the knights' wing of the castle, yanking off his leather riding gloves while rolling his head on his shoulders. His neck cracked with the movement, and his tight muscles loosened a fraction.

"Damn long day," he muttered under his breath. He had been so detained breaking up a massive brawl in the Lower Town that he missed his regular evening visit with Fleur, which frustrated him. And the fact he had taken two elbows to the jaw during the near-riot did not help his mood, either. He was sore, cranky, and at this point, ready to lie down for the night. He would call on Fleur in the morning.

But when he approached his corridor, the faint sound of an infant fussing met his ears. He picked up his pace and came around the corner where he spotted Fleur standing beside his door, bouncing a baby in her arms, her features tight with worry.

"Fleur?" He rushed up to her. Something was amiss. It was far too late for her to be standing out here with a baby. "What is it?"

"Percival, I didn't know what to do! I came up for a late visit, because I heard you were detained, and I saw a woman pick the lock to your chamber." The baby Fleur held whined again, and she patted the infant's back. "I wasn't sure if I should stay or get the guard… She just broke in and she's still in there."

It seemed strange that a woman would bother breaking into his room. And thieves usually worked quickly and wanted to get in and out.

"Fleur, you should have run off. Don't ever put yourself at risk. Did you see what this woman looked like?"

"Yes. Long, straight black hair, almost down to her knees. She wore a fine golden-colored gown like a courtier would. But she's with child, Percival. Don't be too angry with her."

Shock chilled Percival and made it difficult for him to swallow. The person Fleur described was _that woman_. He would have to face her now, his one-time paramour, the woman who had used him as the other man in her life.

His mouth having gone dry, Percival still managed to say, "Please go, Fleur."

"What do you mean? I should get the guards or I should help you."

He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Percival did not have it in him to explain to Fleur about _this woman_ , and he feared if he tried, he would sound like a weak, prating fool. As awful as he felt doing so, he grew harsh with Fleur, but in his mind, that was better than appearing fragile and needy.

"Go right now," he ordered.

Tears filled Fleur's eyes and she inhaled a soft gasp of surprise. Percival had never treated her in such a way and she did not deserve this.

"Wait, I'm sorry." He touched her cheek and she flinched; she had not done that in quite some time. "I know who it is in my chamber. It was the woman I spoke of weeks ago, the one I said I didn't want to talk about."

"You want me to go so you can have privacy with her?"

"No! That's not it. Her name is" – he had not said nor thought her name in a year – "Caron. A year ago we had an affair that lasted two months. Only I didn't know it was an affair. I had no idea she had a husband. One day he returned from a diplomatic trip and she tossed herself into his arms in the Great Hall and she never spoke to me again."

"Did you love her very much?" whispered Fleur.

"No. I never loved her. But to be deceived... it did something to me, made me fear growing close to women. I didn't bother again. Not until you."

"What will you say to her?"

"I'm going to be sharp, Fleur, and I don't want you to hear me speak to a woman in such a way. But I need to do this."

"I understand. I'll go."

She moved to walk away, but Percival caught her by the shoulder. "Before you leave, I need to say something." He cupped her chin in his hand and gazed into her honey-brown eyes. "I love you."

That was not so difficult. Speaking those true words had been as easy as breathing. And he did not expect her to respond in kind.

"I love you, too, Percival."

The thrill of her words sent a warm rush of relief and joy through his body. She loved him back. Who cared about Caron now? Still, he needed to get into his chamber and send Caron away for good, make it clear she was never to bother him again.

But didn't confessions of love deserve a kiss, however brief? Percival leaned down and pressed his lips to Fleur's. They held the gentle kiss until the baby in Fleur's arms shifted and whined. Percival and Fleur separated with smiles.

"I will see you tomorrow," he said, then turned and shoved open his chamber door. And the moment he walked into his room, the smile fell from his face. There sat Caron, _on his bed_ , grinning, as if not a single day had passed since they had last spoken, as if she belonged there. She had made sure only a few candles were left glowing, clearly trying to create a romantic atmosphere. Caron disgusted him.

He jammed his thumb toward the open door. "Get out."

She flicked her dark, glossy hair over her shoulder. He recalled the feel of those long locks wrapped around his hands when they had gone to bed together, and at the time, he had found her extremely beautiful, but now, she looked like a hag to him. Her body might have been beautiful, but her heart was not.

"Percival, don't say that. I've missed you so much." Supporting her gently rounded belly, she flounced to the door and pushed it closed. She leaned her back against the wood so Percival could not open it again unless he shoved her aside. He might have been furious at the sight of her, but he was not about to abuse a woman.

"Caron, stop right there. I have no interest in hearing your petty excuses and lies. I want nothing to do with you ever again. Now leave before I force you out."

"I know you. You would not do such a thing."

"Don't try me."

"I have a serious question for you," said Caron, not budging. "Why can't we pick up where we left off? We had so much fun."

"Woman, you must be mad. You used me and lied. You treated me like spoiled leftovers when your husband came home: no explanations, nothing. So let me make myself clear – if you turn up here again, I will drag you to your husband and tell him everything."

"You wouldn't. You would not want that stain upon your honor, people knowing you went to bed with a married woman." She stepped away from the door and rested her hands on his chest. "Please think about it. I still care for you, and I have this whole time."

Furious, he clenched his jaw and peered at the wall. He did not remove her hands from his chest because he was so angry he worried if he touched her, he would be too rough and cause her harm.

"I had planned for it to be a one-time occurrence between us." Caron stroked Percival's chest up and down, which made him stiffen. Her touch revolted him. "But I came to like you very much. I am sorry I hurt you; that was not my intention."

Grinding his back teeth, he glanced down at the small swell of her lower belly. "You speak these words to me as you carry your husband's child? Caron, you are unbelievable. I feel nothing but contempt for you and sorry for your husband."

"He's gone so often and you were so fun and kind. Please, Percival?"

He was done with this. Carefully, he took her wrists and removed her delicate hands from his chest, but she still winced. "Leave. Pay attention to your husband and go prepare for your new baby. I am in love with someone else."

"Oh. Is it serious?"

"Very."

She spun on her heel and opened the door. Her back to him, Caron said, "Should you ever change your mind –"

"That will _never_ happen. Now get out. And if you ever return to my bedchamber, I will I tell your husband every detail of what went on with us."

Caron, her head hanging low, wandered from the room. Percival slammed the door behind her. His heart pounding, he pressed his forehead against the wood and tried to catch his breath. How was it possible such a diminutive woman could cause him such distress?

He allowed visions of Fleur's smile to take over his thoughts, and he relaxed. Caron was nothing to him and Fleur was everything. He would not allow Caron's past deeds and current irrationality to bother him any longer. Percival was moving on.

XXXX

The next morning, before sunup, Percival stood in the kitchens, as harried maids swept by, shaking their heads and clucking their tongues at him. Standing in front of a counter, he glanced down at his once-white tunic, which was now stained bright red with raspberry juice. The reason he stood in the kitchens at such an unholy hour was because he wanted to make amends with Fleur, and he had overheard her and the nursemaids raving about the new treat that had caught on, raspberry cheesecakes small enough to fit in one's palm. Thus, Percival was determined to make them for her. Purchasing the cakes would not suffice; _he_ needed to be the one to prepare them.

Cook stormed up – that was what she was called, just Cook – her hair tied back in a kerchief, her hands resting on her ample hips. She was not much older than Percival, maybe a few years, but there was an air of authority surrounding her that made her seem much older. And perhaps scarier.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, glaring. "I do not like knights in _my_ kitchen, especially not just before dawn when it's busy."

"I know and I'm sorry." He wiped his sticky hands off on his tunic. "But I have to make those small cheesecakes."

"For what?" she barked.

"Love?"

Cook squinted, and her eyes seemed to disappear into her doughy face. "Love?"

"Yes. You see, I owe someone an apology. I wasn't very nice to her yesterday, and I love her, and I need to show –"

Cook did not wait to hear the rest of his explanation; she muscled her way next to him and lifted the muslin that held soggy cheese curds, eyeing the cloth as if it contained a decaying rat carcass. "This will never do. The curds must be dry." She peered into the bowl at Percival's right and scoffed. "You call that mixing egg whites properly?"

"Well, I'm a knight, not a cook, so…"

"That's clear." She picked up a whisk and flung it at him, and he caught it in mid-air. "I will show you how to make cheesecake, but once you're done, I want you out. And never come back so early again! And certainly not before the evening meal. As a matter of fact, don't come back at all."

But as she spoke, Percival caught a small smile playing on her lips. Perhaps the stern Cook had a soft spot for love, but Percival knew better than to ask, especially with all those sharp knives hanging just within her reach.

Following his lesson, Percival shaped the cakes and slid them into the oven. They were small, so they would not take much time to cook. Meanwhile, Gwaine sauntered into the kitchen.

"Gwaine, terrible idea. Cook's already furious I'm here," said Percival.

Gwaine shrugged, grabbed a slice of boiled egg from a nearby bowl, and popped it into his mouth. "She'll live." He eyed Percival up and down. "You look like you were mauled by a berry bush."

"Raspberries, to be precise."

"What are you doing down here anyway?"

While Percival waited for the cakes to cook, he explained all that had gone on with Caron, and why he owed Fleur an apology.

"This sounds like an awful lot of work, managing women," said Gwaine. "Serious relationships are not for me. I don't want to" – he waved his hand around the kitchen – "cook cakes.

"Anyway, that Caron sounds like a right shrew."

"I hope she stays away," said Percival. "I don't need her presence causing problems with Fleur."

"Sounds like you set Caron straight." Gwaine hopped up onto the counter. "Think I could try one of those cakes when they're done?"

Percival punched Gwaine's shoulder. "No! They are not for you. I have to set them out to cool, and if you so much as think of looking at them…"

"Calm down, big man. I prefer eggs and meat over sweets anyway."

With the baking shovel, Percival withdrew the steaming hot cakes from the oven and allowed them to cool. They looked and smelled delicious, and when Gwaine tried to swipe one, Percival dragged him into a headlock.

"But one's too brown," wheezed Gwaine, trying to pry Percival's arm off his head.

Percival glanced at the ten cakes. One had been overcooked. "All right, you can have _that_ ugly one _._ " He released Gwaine from the headlock. "And tell me how it is."

Gwaine rubbed his sore scalp, then popped the cake into his mouth. He grinned. "Delicious! Should you ever lose your position as a Knight of Camelot…"

"No, no, we must see Sir Percival!" a young boy's panicked voice suddenly called from just outside the kitchen.

Percival turned. It sounded like Rion. Percival shoved open the kitchen doors and saw Rion and Dee standing in the hallway, their faces white and streaked with tears. A guard grabbed Rion by the shoulder, and that was when Percival stepped in.

"I know these children," said Percival. "Release them."

"These little sneaks sidestepped me at the entryway and ran into the castle!" shouted the guard, still gripping Rion's shoulder. "I cannot allow this to pass. They must pay the consequences."

The guard tried to march Rion and Dee down the corridor, but Percival stormed in front of the man. "These children would not come here without good reason. Look at them! They've been crying. Let them go immediately or you'll have to deal with me."

The guard released Rion. "Is that a threat?"

"If it has to be," said Percival.

The guard scoffed, but like most men faced with the threat of fighting Percival, he backed down and stormed off, yet not before muttering, "Bleating brute…"

Percival ignored the guard and took a knee before the children. "What is it, Rion, Dee?"

The brother and sister held hands. "It's Mum," said Rion, as Dee let out a sob. "She was coughing all night, and this morning, she fell. She can't move, Sir Percival. Help us."

"Oh, gods," whispered Percival.

Gwaine appeared right behind him. "I'll fetch Gaius." He lifted Dee into his arms. "She'll come with me and you take Rion. I'll see you at Idele's soon."

Gwaine, with Dee in his arms, ran for the infirmary. Dee's sobs filled the corridor.

In the meantime, Percival flew from the castle carrying Rion, since there was no time to go to the stables and saddle up Percival's horse. Recognizing every heartbeat might mean the difference between life and death for Rion's mother, Percival pushed his running pace to the limit.

* * *

_A/N – In case anyone is interested, cheesecakes have been around since ancient Greek times (possibly earlier), and the popularity spread to Britain (Britannia) during the Roman occupation. Except these cakes would be sweetened with honey and fruit, not sugar._


	13. Facing the Unthinkable

Chapter 13 – Facing the Unthinkable

Percival and Rion made it to Rion's family cottage, but Percival paused for an instant to consider his options. What if the situation with Idele was awful? She might be bleeding, blue-faced, or even dead. Percival did not want Rion to have such an image burned into his mind. He set Rion down carefully.

"Rion, I need you to wait outside for your sister, Gwaine, and Gaius. And when your sister arrives, you, as the big brother, must be strong and take care of her out here. All right?"

Fresh tears spilled down Rion's pale cheeks. "But Mum…"

"Let me tend to her. You can come in when I'm done."

By the grace of the merciful gods, at that very moment, Gwaine rode his horse down the lane (with Dee sitting in the front of the saddle), and Gaius trailed behind on his dun-colored mare. That was when Percival suddenly recalled Merlin's magical abilities. Surely Merlin could cure Idele, as he had cured Gwaine. Yet since Percival and Gwaine were the only ones who knew about Merlin's powers, as far as Percival knew, he would need to speak carefully.

"Where's Merlin?" asked Percival, helping Gaius dismount. "I'm sure you could use his help, Gaius."

"Traveling home from Caerleon with the king," said Gaius, "He's due back after nightfall."

Percival's heart sank. Was there any hope for Idele at all?

Gaius, his jaw set, brushed right past Percival and into the home.

"Go on with him," Gwaine told Percival. "I'll stay out here with the young ones."

Percival gave a solemn nod and entered the home. Idele lay face first on the floor, her arms at her sides, as if she had not had the strength to brace her fall. Gaius sat on the ground beside her and turned her over. He leaned in to listen for breath sounds, then placed his ear against her chest. His hands traveled over Idele's neck and head, and he lifted her eyelids. With a great sigh of discontent, he gazed up at Percival.

"I doubt she will last the night," said Gaius. "Her breath sounds are weak, her lungs crackle, and her heart beats far too fast. It seems she is suffering from inflammation of the lungs. There is no cure, and it claims its victims quickly."

Percival shook his head. "She's been mildly ill for some time. Was this it all along?"

"Might have been. Symptoms can start out mild, but once they take hold, I'm afraid no one survives."

"What if she'd had treatment earlier? Would that have helped?"

"It might have prolonged her life slightly, but not by much." Gaius stood and patted Percival's arm. "This is not your fault, not at all."

Then, with the force of a war hammer, it struck Percival – what about Rion and Dee? Arthur would grant Percival leave for a day or two to help with the children, but what about after that?

"Gaius, her children… Can they come near her?"

"Yes. If they have not caught the illness already, they are unlikely to."

"All right." Percival clasped his hands behind his back and paced. "I'll stay here with the children until Idele's… gone. But what do I need to do to help her? I have no healing skills?"

"I know a few people who can help. I shall send one down."

"Right. I'll pay."

Percival would pay the helper out of his own savings, not Idele's. Her children would need every coin. Gods, these children… What was Percival going to do? Though he was not family, and by the rule of law not responsible for Rion and Dee, morally, he felt responsible. But for the moment, he needed to focus on comforting them; he would have to work out the details later.

As per Gaius's instruction, Percival moved Idele to her bed and covered her with a light blanket. Percival's heart broke for this woman, once vibrant and full of life, a loving young mother, so close to death, now leaving her children behind. He hoped her husband would welcome her into the Other World with open arms.

"Do you think she'll wake again, Gaius?"

"I don't believe so."

Percival adjusted her blanket. "She never got to say goodbye."

Gwaine poked his head into the cottage. "Rion and Dee want to see their mum. Can they?"

Percival waved them in, and the two little children rushed the bed. In a soothing, calm tone, Gaius explained to the children about their mother's grave condition as they wept and showered Idele with hugs and kisses.

Gwaine pulled Percival aside. "Rion told me his aunt is due in for a visit today, and she should arrive any time. She lives about a half day's ride north of here."

At first, a sense of relief filled Percival, but that was quickly washed away by sadness. This aunt would take Rion and Dee, no doubt, and Percival might never see the young boy again. This aunt could keep Percival away, if she wanted. The thought made Percival's heart clench with loss. He had grown to love the boy.

Percival peered over his shoulder and gazed at Rion and Dee as they wept, holding Idele's hands as Gaius tried to soothe them. It was no use; the children were inconsolable.

Desperate to find something that might ease the children's pain, he rummaged through the cupboards and retrieved a round of bread and a container of honey. He broke the loaf in half, slathered it in honey, and offered the snacks to the children. They shook their heads in refusal.

In the meantime, from his medicine bag, Gaius withdrew several tinctures and dropped small quantities of various fluids into Idele's mouth.

"Can you give her something that will wake her?" asked Rion. "Even for a moment so we can say goodbye?"

"I am afraid she will not wake, but I am certain a part of her hears you. You can still say your goodbyes."

Still seated on the bed next to Dee, Rion nodded. "Mum, Dee and I love you very much. We're sorry for every bad thing we ever did and we really love you. Mum? Can you try not to die? Please?"

"Mummy, I love you," added Dee. "If we promise to be good forever, will you come back? Please, mummy, please…"

It was not acceptable for a grown man to cry unless his leg hung from a thread or he was about to die in an agonizing way, and it was especially unacceptable for a knight to weep, but tears of sorrow filled Percival's eyes and fell regardless. He tried to hide this fact, but Gwaine came up to him and patted his shoulder, his own eyes wet.

"Children," said Gaius, "you have been wonderful and your mother loves you very much. You did not cause this. It was a sickness that could not be helped."

Rion and Dee both nodded, and sat quietly for a time, resting near their mother and occasionally talking to her. Morning gave way to afternoon, and Gaius had to return to the castle infirmary. He handed Percival a small brown bottle of tincture.

"Should she become restless, which is very unlikely, give her five drops. And I will send down a helper by nightfall."

"Thank you, Gaius," said Percival.

"I have patrol," said Gwaine, "but I'll inform the king what's happening. Can you handle this on your own for a while?"

Percival did not think so, but what else was he to do? "We'll be fine."

"Right. I'll be back after my patrol."

Gaius and Gwaine left, and Percival took a seat on the floor next to Idele's bed. Her breaths had grown short and choppy; the end had to be close.

As it turned out, there was no need for a helper. By early evening, Idele was gone. When Percival confirmed her heart no longer beat, the children fell apart, screaming and begging for their mother to return. The worst moment of Percival's life had been when he discovered his entire family had been murdered by the then-young King Cenred's men, but this was almost as awful. Not knowing what else to do, he embraced the children and let them cry in his arms.

As they wept, a sharp rap came at the door. Not wanting to let go of Rion and Dee, he carried them and managed to elbow the door open. There stood a woman, tall and narrow-faced, who looked like Idele around the eyes. She wore an expensive red dress and had that refreshed look about her of a person who did not have to work all that hard.

"Who are you?" she asked, removing her riding gloves and marching into the home, not bothering to hide her disdain.

"I'm Sir Percival, a friend of the family."

"What sort of _friend_?"

Percival stared at her for a long moment. What did this haughty woman mean? "I train Rion. And I'm sorry, are you Rion and Dee's aunt?"

"Yes. Tafi."

The children did not seem over-thrilled with their aunt's presence and clung to Percival, burying their faces in his shoulders.

"I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your sister just passed away from a lung inflammation."

Tafi's cold gaze moved to Idele's death bed. "Very unfortunate. But I thought this might happen, with my sister running off with a peasant farmer as she did…"

That was her response? Her sister was dead, her niece and nephew orphans, and that was all she had to say? Percival patted Rion's head. He was not going to allow this cold woman to take these children.

"Will you stay and make the funeral arrangements?" asked Percival.

"No. This was to be a quick visit. I don't have time for it. Hand over the girl and I'll be on my way."

"No!" shrieked Dee, digging her little fingernails into Percival's arm.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "You can't separate Dee from Rion, not now. Their parents are both dead. They need one another."

"I don't have the time nor funds to raise two more children. I have three of my own and my husband's business is not doing as well as it once was." She glanced at Rion for an instant. "He's a boy. Someone will take him in, but Dee has no chance, so I'll take her."

Percival drew back. This was the most repulsive woman he had ever met. She spoke with such aloofness. How could she be so blind to these children's needs?

"No, I'll take them both," Percival found himself saying. How he would care for two children when he was not equipped to take on even one was a mystery, one he would have to figure it out.

Tafi scoffed and stomped forward. "Have you a wife?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"If you have no wife, you cannot raise a girl alone. What will Dee do? Share your bedchamber? Your bed? That is wholly inappropriate."

Percival's jaw dropped. Was this woman really implying what he thought she was? That Percival would somehow use Dee in an awful way? The notion nauseated him.

Such hostility poured off Tafi, Percival started to think up ways in which he could overpower her without hurting her, then run for the castle with the children, but no reasonable plan came to mind. And besides, the laws of the land supported her claim to these children. She could come after him and it would be well within her right to take Dee and shove Rion into the streets if she wanted. Percival could try appealing to King Arthur, but what would Percival say? That Tafi was cruel and therefore should not be permitted to care for Dee? The laws of Camelot did not care if a guardian was cruel, only if they were excessively abusive or horribly neglectful. No matter what Percival said or did, regardless of how much he begged to keep Dee, King Arthur would not be able to help, even if he wanted to.

It made Percival ill, but he had to let Dee go, as much as he hated to.

"Dee?" he said. "I'm sorry, but you will have to go with your auntie."

Dee shrieked a bloodcurdling: "NO!"

"I will make sure you and Rion write one another once per month, and at the start of each season, Rion and I will come for a visit." Percival fixed Tafi with a murderous stare. "And your aunt _will_ allow it, because Rion and I will stand outside the door until she grants us entry."

"Fine," said Tafi with an exasperated sigh. "I agree to it. But hand over the girl so I can get home before it's too dark."

Percival lowered Rion to the ground, but the boy clung to Percival's leg and screamed. Dee screamed, too, and the sounds of these children's misery ate at his guts. While guilt scalded his insides, he managed to hand over a writhing, keening Dee, and the moment Dee made it into Tafi's arms, Tafi slapped the girl across the face.

Percival prided himself in the fact he had never laid a hand on a woman in anger. But seeing this woman strike a little girl whose mother had just died made his composure crack, and anger spread through his body like wildfire. His hand shot out and he grabbed Tafi by the back of her hair and yanked her close so her ear rested near his mouth.

"If you ever strike that girl again, I will hurt you, damn the Knights' Code," he growled in her ear quietly so the children would not hear. "When I check on this girl come winter, I expect to hear she is happy and well treated, or I will rain misery on you. Understood?"

"Y-yes."

"And if you cannot handle Dee, or do not want to, you are to bring her straight back to me. Is that also clear?"

"I-it is."

Percival released her hair. "Now give these children a chance to say their goodbyes."

Tafi set down Dee on the floor, and the children held one another, saying nothing, their mournful wails pitiful enough to make Percival's guts roil with revulsion for Tafi.

After drawing up the blanket to cover Idele's face, Percival was forced to separate Dee and Rion. He ushered them outdoors, and with one arm, he subdued Rion, and with the other, he helped Dee onto Tafi's horse.

"I'm sorry, Dee," he told the hysterical little girl. "We'll write next week and visit the first of winter."

"Please don't make me go, Sir Percival." Tears streamed down Dee's little cheeks. "Let me stay with my brother. I won't be any trouble at all."

Her words pained him worse than a spear to the heart. He did not want to lie to her; there was nothing he could do. "I wish you could stay with me, I truly do. But when you're old enough, you can move straight back here. But in the meantime, you will see Rion for a visit soon."

Dee would not be old enough to return on her own for ten years, which would seem like a lifetime for the little girl.

"I want to stay." Dee trembled in the saddle and she took hysterical, choppy breaths. "Please, Percival, help me."

As another pang of agonizing guilt tore through him, he took Dee's hand and kissed it. "Remember, you are welcome in my home any time. Forgive me, little one."

Tafi mounted her horse, dug her heel into the animal's barrel, and rode off with little Dee. Rion squirmed away from Percival and chased the horse down the long dirt lane. Percival let Rion go. If the boy needed to run off his misery, let him run.

In the distance, Dee screamed Rion's name over and over, twisting backward in the saddle, holding out her hand as if he might be able to grab it and somehow save her, return her to the life she had once known.

"Dee! No! Dee…" Rion charged after the galloping horse as the sun dipped toward the horizon. He kept going and going, arms and legs flying, kicking up clods of dirt as he raced ahead. But he never caught up with Dee. Finally, the horse disappeared into the woods, and Rion, exhausted, sank to his knees and sobbed.

Percival rushed down the lane, and the moment he reached Rion's side, Rion launched himself into Percival's arms.

"You're with me now." Percival held Rion tightly. "It'll be all right."

Percival hoped to the gods it would be.


	14. Welcome to the Castle

Chapter 14 – Welcome to the Castle

With Rion sleeping in his arms, Percival made his way through the Lower Town, up the steep castle path, and arrived at the castle steps. He gave the sentry a nod of acknowledgment.

"Has the king returned from his travels?" asked Percival.

"Yes, moments ago."

Percival let out a quiet sigh, ascended the stairs, and wandered inside. Rion's head rested against Percival's chest, and the boy took slow, deep breaths. Rion finally seemed at ease for the first time all day, so Percival chose to take him straight to King Arthur instead of settling him into bed and risk waking him in the process. Hopefully, Rion would remain asleep as Percival spoke to the king.

With careful steps, Percival approached King Arthur's solar. Percival did not like the idea of bothering the king so late and without prior approval, but this was an emergency. Percival could not keep this boy in the castle without permission. But what if, for some reason, the king did not approve? What in the name of the gods would Percival do then? The answer came right to him – he would relinquish his title as a Knight of Camelot and do… something to earn money, but he would care for Rion regardless.

"Evening, Percival," said Leon, who stood guard for Arthur. "You look distressed. What seems to be the trouble?"

Percival rubbed Rion's back. "Rion's mother died today, and his aunt came and took his sister away, but refused to take him. I need permission from the king to take him on as my ward. And his mother's body needs to be handled, her funeral arranged…"

Gods, this was all so overwhelming, it was all Percival could do to keep his emotions from boiling over.

"That's sad news, indeed." Leon patted Rion's head gently. "Don't worry about the body and funeral arrangements. I'll manage that. And I'll tell the king you're here and why."

Percival waited only a few moments before Leon showed him into the spacious, high-ceilinged solar. King Arthur appeared tired from his travels, as did Queen Guinevere – who stood at her husband's side – and Percival was grateful they were willing to see him tonight.

"Oh, this poor boy," whispered Guinevere, obviously trying to make sure she did not wake Rion. "How can we help, Percival?"

"I need permission to keep him as my ward. Let me explain what happened…"

Percival gave the full story of Idele's death, Tafi taking Dee but refusing Rion, and how there was no one else to step in.

"That's fine to keep him as your ward, Percival," said the king. "I'll have the documents drawn up tomorrow."

"Well, there is more," added Percival. "I want to adopt him."

Those words came out so easily. And didn't it make sense, to adopt Rion? Percival adored the child. Rion needed a home. There was nothing complicated about it.

"Adopt? That will take time," said Arthur. "You'll need to prove you have the resources to support him –"

"I have that."

"And you'll need to prove he will be cared for while you work. There will be many documents to fill out, a hearing, and so forth. "It will take months, even if no one contests the adoption."

"That's fine, sire. I can wait."

"Percival," said the king gently, "are you sure this is right for you? And for the child? I am sure we can find two parents who would be willing to take him, courtiers, even. And you could still be a part of this boy's life."

"Sire, I was an orphan. I certainly understand the importance of having a stable, loving home. I can give him that on my own. Well, not all by myself, but with help. I was wondering if you would release Fleur from her duties in the nursery so I might hire her as Rion's personal nursemaid until he's old enough to not need one."

The words had flown out of Percival's mouth before he had time to really consider them. He had not even asked Fleur if this was something she was willing to do. She might say no. Percival was getting in over his head.

Arthur glanced at his wife. "What do you think?"

"That sounds like a reasonable plan," said the queen. "As long as Fleur can find a replacement, but that should not be difficult at all. Many fine young women want a position in the nursery."

"It's settled, then." Arthur cast the sleeping boy a small smile. "Welcome to the castle, Rion. I hope you'll be happy here."

"Thank you, sire," said Percival. "I owe you much."

Next, Percival called on Gwaine. Gwaine's chamber door stood ajar, and he sat in his bedside chair, tapping his fingers against the armrest. The moment Percival walked into the room carrying Rion, Gwaine jumped up.

"This can't be good," he said, frowning, motioning for Percival to enter.

"It's not…"

For what felt like the hundredth time, Percival launched into the story of what had transpired today, everything about Tafi and his plans to hire Fleur. After listening to the whole tale, Gwaine cursed Tafi with language so foul, it was out of character for even Gwaine to go that far.

"Well, we'll get through this," said Gwaine.

"We?"

"Yes. I'll help with the boy. Make sure he eats his meat and cabbage."

"He hates cabbage."

"Then spinach. Or whatever nasty green things children need to eat. And I'll teach him all about women."

Percival groaned. "He's seven, Gwaine."

"I know. I'm only fooling around. But I am here for you."

"That means a lot. I have a feeling I'll need loads of help."

"If anyone can manage to be a knight and a child's guardian, it's you." Gwaine gave Percival a one-armed hug. "Bring Rion to your quarters and I'll fetch Fleur so you can talk to her. I'll give her the short version of all that's happened."

"Do you think she'll say yes to caring for Rion, Gwaine? What'll I do if she says no?"

"She'll say yes."

XXXX

After settling Rion into bed, Percival stoked the hearth fire and glanced around his room. There was so much Rion would need: a bed of his own, privacy curtains, books, a study desk, and toys; Percival would make sure the boy had toys. And Rion had no formal education as of yet, but as the ward of a knight, Rion would start his studies right away, which meant Percival would need to purchase wax tablets, more writing implements, and whatever else Sir Geoffrey (the castle tutor and librarian) demanded. Percival's head spun with the thoughts of all that needed to be done, and he began to wonder if he was truly competent enough to care for a child. What if he made a mess of Rion's life?

When the door banged open without warning, Percival started. Gwaine and Leon carried a bed and mattress, and Merlin followed them, struggling under the weight of a small desk and curtains. Fleur came in last, bearing a flour sack full of… something. Just the sight of her, dressed in a simple tan dress and her hair piled into a messy blond bun, made Percival want to pull her into his arms and kiss her. She was going to say yes to the job of being Rion's caregiver, otherwise, she would not be here.

"What's all this?" Percival asked the men in a whisper, not wanting to wake Rion.

Gwaine gave a shrug as he and Leon placed the bed down into a corner. "The boy needs things."

"Where did you get it?" asked Percival.

"Gwaine mentioned we did not need to know," said Merlin with a grin, depositing the writing desk next to the bed, "so don't bother asking."

"There's a guest chamber filled to the brim with things no one uses," said Gwaine. "All this has been sitting there for ages. No one will miss it."

"Percival, why don't you and Fleur make your arrangements while we set up?" suggested Leon. "You two can speak in Gwaine's quarters. We'll keep an eye on the boy."

Fleur dropped her sack and followed Percival down to Gwaine's chamber. The moment they made it inside, Percival told Fleur exactly what he needed in terms of Rion's care. When he finished enumerating his needs, he asked, "Will you do it, Fleur? Mind Rion?"

"Of course I will. I adore Rion. And you."

Percival wrapped her up in a hug. "Thank you. Thank you. And whatever your wages are now, I'll double them."

"That is not necessary at all." She took a step back. "In fact, the job you propose is far too easy. Often, Rion will be at lessons. So I would like to work in the nursery _and_ care for him, if that's all right with you. But Rion will be my first priority."

"Whatever you want, Fleur. But I must pay you what I feel is fair. And what about your bedchamber? Let me find a larger one for you, closer…"

She shook her head. "I don't need that. The maid whom I shared with has gone off and gotten married, and I rather like the room." Fleur cleared her throat. "But there will be times I need to stay in your quarters overnight, such as when you're on late patrols or missions that keep you away from the castle. I have a cot for sleeping."

"No." Percival took her hand in his. "You'll sleep in my bed on those nights."

The thought of Fleur in his bed, her scent trapped in his pillow for him to inhale, made his heart shudder. If only she would consent to becoming his wife, they could share the bed at the same time. But that was a matter for a different day.

"All right. I'll see Rion to his lessons and meals, or cook when he's eating in the chamber. I'll make sure he keeps up with his studies, take him out to play, and introduce him to children his age. And I can do your laundry and his…"

"No, I have a chambermaid for that. All I need is your care and love, I-I mean, Rion needs that."

"And he'll have it." Fleur reached up and rested her hand on Percival's cheek. "I promise."

"I believe you."

He gazed at her for a long moment, then, unable to resist her pink lips, he bent down and pressed his mouth to hers. She did not back away, in fact, she stroked her thumb against his jaw.

Rejuvenated by the contact with Fleur and feeling more hopeful, he said, "I don't want this to change anything between us. I still want you to consider a courtship, though I know having you work for me complicates things a little."

"I'll think about a courtship in a few weeks when things settle."

"You would?"

"I said I'd _think_ about it."

"And perhaps marriage at some point…?" He tried to sound lighthearted.

Fleur poked him in the chest playfully. "Don't push it, Percival."

"I won't. Oh! I almost forgot..." From his belt, he withdrew the key to his trunk and handed it over. "I keep my money in the trunk at the foot of the bed. Take whatever you need whenever you need it and just write it in the ledger. I won't ask any questions. I know Rion will need things for his lessons. And you may, too, so just… take what is necessary."

Fleur eyed the key. "You are giving me unfettered access to your money?"

"Why wouldn't I? I trust you wholeheartedly. And besides, it's not _all_ my money. Much of it is tucked away in a vault," he said with a wink.

"I'm not comfortable taking the key. But when I need money for Rion's needs, I will ask."

So many other women Percival knew would have swiped the key from his hand without question. Fleur was different, warm, wonderful, and considerate. "I understand. But if you ever change your mind, the key is yours.

"And tomorrow, will you come to the market with us and help me and Rion select the right supplies for his lessons?"

"I will. I'll be ready whenever you are."

 _Can I kiss you? Hold you? Slip a betrothal ring onto your finger right now? Toss you into my bed and never let you go?_ "Thank you, Fleur. But one last thing… Did Gwaine tell you I plan to adopt Rion?"

"No. He did not. He mentioned only guardianship." She did not sound surprised; as a matter of fact, she sounded pleased.

"I just thought you should know. Because this means I will have a son." He did not wait for her to respond. He took her by the elbow and guided her back to his room. "Come. Let's see what's happening in my chamber. I'm afraid of what Gwaine might have done."

It turned out Percival needn't have worried, because the area of the room that Gwaine, Merlin, and Leon had set up for Rion was a perfect oasis for the boy. The bed – piled high with thick furs and soft pillows – sat in a small alcove Percival never used. Scarlet curtains bearing the golden Pendragon crest hung down from the ceiling, and Rion could leave them open or closed. The writing desk sat next to the bed, and it held parchment, ink and quills, and a carved wooden candlestick. Rion did not know how to write yet, but that day was coming soon. And there were toys on the floor near the head of the bed – balls, building blocks, spinning tops, wooden toy knight figurines complete with horses and lances…

Percival swallowed down the emotion welling up inside him. He might not be the ideal choice as a guardian or father for Rion, but he would damn sure do his best, and his friends and Fleur would be there to guide him.

"Wait, this is the best part." From beneath the bed coverings, Gwaine withdrew a stuffed dragon, one almost as long as Rion, colored bright red. But it was not a frightening looking dragon, it was a magical and mysterious creature, perfect for a boy to cuddle with in bed when he felt lost and alone.

"I don't know what to say," whispered Percival. "Thank you for all this."

"It's our pleasure," said Merlin. "I wish I could be of more help, but Gaius and Arthur have me constantly on the move these days. I'm away from the castle more than I'm here. Which reminds me…" From the back of his belt, Merlin withdrew a long, brown-and-tan feather and placed it on Rion's desk. "I found this on my, erm, recent herb-gathering trip near the White Mountains. It's a falcon feather, meant to offer protection. A late birthday gift for the boy."

Pain flashed in Merlin's eyes as he glanced at Rion, but he covered up the hurt with a smile. Merlin was such a kind and sensitive man, and Percival wished he was home more often.

"Why don't you move Rion to his new bed?" said Merlin, clearly trying to change the focus of the conversation.

With care, Percival lifted, Rion – who remained limp – and deposited him into his new sleeping spot in his new home. Tomorrow, Rion would face the first day of his life as a castle resident, and Percival hoped the boy would sleep well tonight.

"I've seen to Idele's funeral arrangements," said Leon. "The ceremony will be held tomorrow."

Percival continued to tuck-in Rion, nodding, but he did not turn.

Quietly, Gwaine, Leon, Merlin and Fleur slipped from the room, leaving Percival alone with Rion.

"I'll do right by you, Rion." Percival planted a soft kiss to the boy's brow. "I swear it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – And a quick end note! There is very little reliable information available on late Dark Ages/early medieval adoption and guardianship. So, I am making educated guesses about possible procedures and laws based on the very limited information I can find. And remember, this is still a land of myth and a time of magic. :)


	15. The Adjustment

Chapter 15 – The Adjustment

Nearly all the residents of the Lower Town turned up for Idele's funeral late the next morning, and the air was thick with grief. It saddened Percival that Idele felt she'd had no one to turn to for help when she was alive, because obviously, she was adored.

King Arthur himself led the ceremony right outside the courtyard and lit the funeral pyre. Rion, who had done well until that moment, fell apart the moment the flames consumed the edge of the gossamer shroud covering his mother's body. He wailed and tossed himself into Percival's arms and would not let go. All the women from the brothel were there, dressed modestly, and they rushed Rion, stroked his hair, and cried along with him.

While Percival held Rion and comforted the boy along with the help of the women, he heard muttering from the butcher that Rion needed to "toughen up" and that Percival was "babying" him. With a sobbing child in his arms, Percival could do nothing, but Anaed from the brothel marched right up to the butcher, made a rude gesture with her hand, and cursed at him.

"How dare you!" she shouted. "This little boy lost his mum! If you say another word, I'll kick you in the bollocks!"

Fleur intervened, stepping in between Anaed and the butcher, but Fleur shot the butcher an angry look as she escorted Anaed away.

The pyre burned to ash and embers, and after paying their final respects, the funeral goers dispersed, all except Percival, Rion, and Fleur.

"Perhaps we should go to the market," she suggested mildly. "Get Rion the things he needs for his lessons and anything else you can think of."

"How does that sound, Rion?" asked Percival.

The child, his face tear stained, peered up at Percival. "All right. But I need to earn money."

"You have money." Percival leaned down and dried Rion's tears with his palm. "I'm holding it for you."

There was a good amount of money left over from the old donations for Idele, all of which Percival and Gwaine set aside, but there would be no need for Rion to use it until he was older. However, Percival would send some to the awful Aunt Tafi for Dee's needs.

"I don't want that money. I want my own that I've earned. And I want to buy Dee a gift today."

Percival took a knee. "Rion, as a boy, your job is to go to lessons and train with me. That's all. And we can buy your sister a gift."

Rion shook his head and his eyes welled up again. "No. I must earn my keep."

Percival understood. Rion was terrified of being cast into the streets. Percival had felt the same way when he had been orphaned, and worried constantly that his foster father would abandon him. It took about a year for Percival to understand the old man would never do such a thing, but in the meantime, he had worked his fingers to the bone trying to keep Owen happy.

"Rion, after the market, we'll talk," said Percival. "I do not want you to worry about anything. I am here for you no matter what."

"What if I did something really bad?"

"What would you do that could be so bad?"

Rion shuffled his feet. "I don't know… What if I punched someone?"

"Only punch someone if they deserve it, and never a girl. All right?" Percival ruffled the boy's hair. "Remember when we went swimming and I asked if you trusted me?"

"I remember."

"I ask you to trust me again."

"I'll try. But I'm scared."

"So am I," said Percival.

"You? Scared?" Rion looked at Percival with disbelief.

"Yes. Very. I want to make sure you have a good life with me, and I worry I'll make mistakes. If I do, you'll tell me, won't you?"

"I… I'll tell you," said Rion. "And will you tell me if I make mistakes?"

"I will." Percival extended his forearm. "Shall we shake on it?"

For the first time in over a day, Rion gave a small smile, and shook Percival's arm. Fleur stood a distance away, but close enough to hear the exchange, and tears glistened in her eyes. She blinked them away and approached again.

"Are you hungry, Rion?" she asked. "There's a man selling chicken skewers today. Have you ever had one?"

Rion's eyes brightened. "No. I would like one."

"Then off we go," said Percival.

XXXX

As he wandered through Camelot's bustling market with Rion on his right and Fleur on his left, Percival experienced a lightness of spirit and true contentment deep in his heart. This was how it felt to have a family, to have people to care for and who cared for you in return, and Percival loved it. How could Fleur not sense it? Did she not appreciate the warmth and closeness the three of them shared on this day No, she must feel it, too. She smiled at Percival and Rion the way a wife and mother would, with tenderness and care. However, a part of Percival felt terrible because it was Idele's death that had allowed for this positive change in his life. It did not seem right that Rion's mother's passing should benefit Percival in any way.

Yet despite the trials of the day, after having snacked on a spiced chicken skewer in the warm afternoon sunlight, Rion seemed more at ease. The boy tugged at Percival's sleeve.

"Sir Percival, look! There are little unicorns in that stall. Dee would love one."

Rion marched up to the stall and took a small carved unicorn into his hand, one painted white, and with threads of all colors for its mane. It was a beautiful toy.

"How much?" Percival asked the merchant, and the man named an exorbitant price. After a bit of haggling, Percival talked the man down and handed over his coins. Rion clutched the wooden toy to his chest and appeared thrilled to have something to send to his sister.

They made their way back to the castle, and Percival so wanted to take Fleur's hand and hold it as they walked, but refrained. For now, he would keep their relationship – whatever it was – private, but not for long. He did not like the notion of skulking about like he had with Caron. That brought back too many upsetting memories.

"I should go to the nursery for a time," said Fleur, once they reached Percival's chamber, but Rion grabbed onto her hand.

"Will you come back later?" His brown eyes grew wide. "Please? Please promise me you will."

She bent and hugged him. "I will. And you can come to the nursery whenever you like."

He clung to her until Percival urged Rion into the room. But before Percival followed the boy inside, he leaned down and gave Fleur a quick peck on the lips.

"Thank you for being there for us today," he said.

Much to his surprise, Fleur kissed him back, then wandered off. Percival brushed his fingers against his lips for a moment, as if that might seal the warmth of her kiss to his skin. He then cleared his throat and entered his room, taking a seat next to Rion, who sat on the floor and played with his stuffed dragon and Dee's unicorn.

"Let's talk, Rion. We didn't have much time before your mum's funeral this morning."

"All right, Sir Percival."

"To start with, it's not necessary for you to call me 'Sir Percival.' In private, you can call me 'Percival,' or 'sir' around others."

"No." Rion made his dragon hop along the ground. "I don't like that yet."

"All right. Whatever you're comfortable with. Let's move on to other matters. King Arthur gave me permission to take you on as my ward."

Rion stopped playing and looked up. "What does that mean?"

"It means you'll live here with me, and I'll take care of you, along with Fleur's help."

"How long can I live here?"

"Until you're grown and ready to be on your own. You see, I want to adopt you, and I've already started the process."

"What does it mean to adopt?"

"It means that you would be my son. I would be your father."

Rion stared off into the center of the room. He looked so lost and overwhelmed at the moment, and Percival did not blame the child; poor Rion had endured so much change during the last day.

"Does that mean my mum and father never really loved me?" Rion's face twisted and he let out a quiet sob.

"No, Rion, they loved you very, very much. It means you'll have more people to love you, like me."

" _You_ love me, Sir Percival?"

"Yes. You're the son I always wanted."

"Right." Rion seemed to absorb all this. "I love you, too, but I'm not ready to call you my father yet."

"That's all right. That may change in time."

Rion nodded, then grabbed his falcon feather from beneath his pillow – where he'd decided to keep the gift – and stroked it. That simple, repetitive action seemed to calm him. "With adoption… Will I have the chance to tell anyone what I think of it? Like the king?"

"You will. Months from now, there'll be a hearing at court where you can speak, if you'd like."

"Good. Because I'll tell everyone you'll make an excellent father."

Percival gave Rion a half-grin. "Perhaps you should wait before you make that judgment."

"No. I already know."

XXXX

Weeks passed, and cold, late-autumn breezes swept over Camelot; winter would grip the kingdom in its frosty clutches soon. However, things were going better than Percival could have hoped for. Rion was adjusting to life in the castle; he had new friends his own age and loved his lessons.

"I like maths and science the best," the little boy had declared after his first day of lessons. "No, maybe writing and reading. Or Latin… I like Latin a lot! Sir Geoffrey of Monmouth says if I work very hard, I can learn Greek, too! Can I tell you something in Latin?"

Percival chuckled. "Go ahead."

"Die dulci fruimini. Do you know what that means?"

Percival's Latin from his days with his foster father was rusty. "I don't."

"It means 'Have a nice day!' I'll learn lots of Latin and Greek, too…"

However, today, several weeks after Rion had started lessons, Geoffrey of Monmouth – the elderly, stout castle librarian and tutor – called for Percival to see him in the library. Rion was out getting riding lessons, and Geoffrey had always intimidated Percival a little, so Percival asked Fleur to accompany him.

"I'm worried," whispered Percival, as he and Fleur strode to the library on the castle's lower level. "Do you think Rion's having a problem learning? He can't be. He does so much work each night and he knows more Latin than the king."

"Rion works very hard and does well. I can't imagine what Geoffrey has to say. All I've noticed is Rion seems a little extra tired this week."

Percival stopped short and faced Fleur. "He does? I hadn't noticed. But I've been on overnight patrol so my sleep schedule's somewhat fragmented. I should pay better attention."

"Don't say that. You're doing fine. This is common after all Rion's been through. He's probably having bad dreams."

"Right." Percival started walking again. "I'll talk to him."

Geoffrey, a pleasant smile on his normally stern face, met Percival and Fleur at the door of the dusty library and ushered them in. They sat at the long reading table, Geoffrey on one side and Percival and Fleur on the other.

"Percival, I am glad you and your lovely wife have come today."

Percival did not want to correct Geoffrey. _See, Fleur? We should be husband and wife!_ However, instead of misleading the man, Percival said, "Actually, Fleur is Rion's nursemaid, but she cares for him very much, so I want her here."

Geoffrey folded his hands on the table and glanced from Percival to Fleur. "I see. Let me begin by saying I am concerned for Rion…"

Percival cut across. "I'm sorry if he's not doing well. As you know, his mother died and his sister was taken away only a few weeks ago, and I've been on night patrol. I'll work with him more, review his lessons and make sure they're done satisfactorily. Please, Geoffrey, give him another chance."

"Percival?" Geoffrey raised his arthritic hands. "That's not it at all. I am concerned because Rion is working himself to the point of exhaustion. He finishes his work for the week in a mere night and then asks for more. At first, I gave it to him. But yesterday, he got one answer wrong when we were reviewing maths and he burst into tears. I took him aside, and he told me if he was not 'perfect,' he was afraid he would be sent away."

With a groan, Percival slumped in his seat and Fleur patted his arm. Percival had thought his talk with Rion after Idele's funeral about how Percival would never send the boy away would be enough… Wait one moment. Percival had never said those exact words. He had said he would be there for Rion no matter what, and that he loved him, but he had never said: "Rion, I will never send you away."

"I'll speak with him, Geoffrey," said Percival. "And thank you for your patience with him."

"Oh, not at all. It is my pleasure to teach the boy. He is so enthusiastic and I will finally have a student who wants to learn Greek! But I care about his well-being. Rion is such a bright and pleasant boy, even with all he has gone through. You two are doing a fine job with him, even if you are not married."

Geoffrey shot Percival a questioning look, as if asking: "And why are you not married?"

"Sir Geoffrey, thank you," said Fleur. "Sir Percival is doing a wonderful job with the boy. He truly is. And I will do my part to make sure the child feels secure."

Geoffrey bid them good day, and Percival breathed a sigh of relief as he and Fleur left the library. This was not bad news. Percival just needed to have a sit-down talk with Rion.

And besides the issues with Rion, Percival had far less time than he would have liked with Fleur. During the past week, they had been like ships passing in the night. After overnight patrol, Percival would return to his quarters in the morning, check in briefly, and just about collapse into bed for a few hours of rest. He was committed to being there for Rion and keeping up with the boy's training, so before the midday meal, when Rion's tutoring ended, Percival would wake, eat with him, and the two would train.

Percival could not _wait_ until next week when his stint on overnight patrol was done and he could function somewhat normally again. Overnight work never agreed with him.

As they made their way down the corridor, Percival said, "Fleur, before you return to the nursery, do you have time to speak to me in my quarters?"

"What if we go for a walk instead? It'll be too cold for it soon and it's beautiful out."

With a smile, Percival offered his arm, and they exited the castle and walked through the gardens. They sat on a stone bench beneath the partial shade of an elm tree, its branches dropping the last of its crisp brown leaves. Percival took Fleur's hand and rested it against his chest.

"Feel that?" he asked. "My heart needs you. I need you."

"Oh, Percival."

"You said you loved me. Is that true?"

"Yes. You know it is."

"But you won't marry me?"

"I…" She gazed across the garden and into the distance. "I don't know."

"Aha! That's not a direct 'no.' So you'll let me court you, then? Openly, so everyone knows? I hate hiding, Fleur. If you're not ready for marriage, at least let's have this."

"Yes," she whispered. "We can have this."

Percival jumped to his feet, dragged Fleur up with him, and kissed her hard. Swept up in the joy of having made this progress with Fleur, he deepened the kiss, parting her delicious lips with his tongue while running his hands up and down her sides and over her hips. He did not care who saw; let everyone see. She let out a soft moan of approval, and Percival had to stop himself from throwing her over his shoulder, carrying her through the castle, and tossing her down onto his bed.

"Ahem."

Both Fleur and Percival jumped, but continued holding one another. There stood Gwaine with a smirk on his face.

"Sorry to interrupt," said Gwaine, "but riding lessons are over, and I have Rion here…"

Rion leapt out from behind a tree and pointed at Fleur and Percival. "I saw you kiss! Are you getting married?"

"No," said Fleur with a small smile, "but we are courting."

"But I say you will get married. I know it." Rion faced Gwaine. "What do you think, Sir Gwaine?"

"I'd bet all my coins on it."

Rion grinned. "Me, too. And can we have supper together tonight, all four of us? Please?"

"Yes. And come here." Percival motioned for Rion to join him, and Percival and Fleur pulled Rion in a hug. Rion squealed and laughed.

"Too much love in the air," said Gwaine with fake annoyance. "I'd rather eat pork and ale stew with an apple crumble for dessert than be present for these shameless displays of affection."

Rion extracted himself from the hug and rushed Gwaine. "Is that what's for supper?"

"It is if we make it to the Dining Hall soon."

Rion grabbed Gwaine's hand and dragged him into the castle while Percival and Fleur stood back and laughed.

"I think Rion will be all right," said Percival.

Slowly, hand-in-hand, Percival and Fleur made their way inside.


	16. The Time in Between

Chapter 16 –The Time in Between

"I might have eaten too much apple crumble." Rion clutched his belly as he, Percival, Gwaine, and Fleur excused themselves from supper.

Percival nodded his head. "Me, too. I think we all ate too much."

"Oh, but that was so delicious." Gwaine patted his gut. "However, I'm off to bed. Goodnight, all."

"I'm afraid I overindulged, too," said Fleur.

She kissed both Rion and Percival on the cheek, then wandered toward her quarters. That left Percival and Rion alone.

Percival dropped a hand onto Rion's shoulder. "Let's talk. How about a nice stroll on the wall-walk?"

"Yes, I'd like that," said Rion.

"Good. There's something we need to discuss."

"Am I in trouble?"

"No, Rion, you are not in trouble. I spoke with Geoffrey today…"

"And what did I do wrong?" Rion marched along faster.

"Nothing. He told me you're wearing yourself out by working too hard. Slow down the pace and enjoy your lessons. Geoffrey thinks highly of you."

"And I like Sir Geoffrey. He's very, very smart and a good teacher."

This news seems to calm Rion, and by the time he and Percival stood out on the wall-walk, the sun was setting, and they paused, peering through a crenel, as a dazzling autumn sunset painted the sky red.

"Rion?" Percival draped his arm over the boy's shoulder. "I will never send you away. All right? Never. There is nothing you could do that would make me send you away."

"What if I stole something?"

"Then I would punish you."

"What if… What if I punched the king?"

Percival had to stifle a laugh. "Then you would receive a huge punishment and time in the dungeons. But I still would not send you away."

"What if…? Oh, all right." Rion glanced up at Percival. "Will you read me a story tonight?"

"No."

Rion's face fell.

"I want you to read _me_ a story," said Percival with a grin, pinching Rion's cheek.

"Oh, good! I want to read the one about the fox and the snake who eat supper together."

"I can't wait."

XXXX

Weeks marched on. The Samhain festival came and went, Camelot's harvest was bountiful, and there had been no confrontation with King Odin and no sight of Morgana. And Rion was doing so well, far better than Percival had after his family died. For months and months after his family had been killed, Percival, grief-stricken, lay awake half the night in old Owen's loft, sobbing and sometimes screaming for someone to help him. But Owen was half deaf at that point and never heard Percival's cries, so Percival learned to comfort himself. Eventually, his tears dried up, but he never forgot his mother, father, and sister.

Due to his experience of shouldering grief on his own, Percival encouraged Rion to talk about his family. It was important to share memories about loved ones who had passed, as trying to forget about them did nothing but sharpen the edge of grief. Sometimes Rion cried about his mum, and Percival assured the boy it was normal; Percival shed a tear over his own mum sometimes, even though she had been gone for fifteen years.

It was now early winter, and Percival and Rion had been writing Dee weekly. Aunt Tafi had yet to help the girl respond, and Percival grew annoyed. Further, Tafi had not replied to Percival's two letters requesting to visit. If she did not reply by next week, Percival would turn up at the woman's door with Rion, as promised, and demand to see Dee.

Yet aside from that major irritation, life was wonderful. And how could it not be when Percival was in love? Every evening when Rion fell asleep, Percival and Fleur would draw the privacy curtain, and the two of them would sit by the fire in his chamber and talk, read, play games, and of course, kiss. And after each heated kissing session, Percival asked Fleur to marry him. Courting was all well and good, but he wanted her as his wife. They loved one another and it seemed silly to wait. However, every night, her answer was the same.

"It has nothing to do with you," she would say. "But it feels selfish to marry you knowing I cannot give you any more children…"

Percival always assured her he loved her no matter what, and he would ask her to marry him every night of her life until she said yes. And he had prepared for the day she actually accepted his proposal. Deep in the back of his wardrobe, he had hidden a betrothal ring, a thin silver band studded with clear crystals, and a small daisy situated in the center. When he saw it inside the jeweler's tent in the market, he knew this was the ring for her, a _fleur_.

Gwaine had been with him on the day of the purchase. When Gwaine heard the price of the ring, he stumbled and tripped over a display, fell, and ended up covered in a mess of jeweled hair pins.

"Gods, women and children are so costly," said Gwaine, rising and plucking pins off his cloak while the jeweler looked on with an angry scowl.

Percival rolled his eyes and happily handed over his money.

On the way out of the tent, Percival walked smack into Caron. He hated the thought of communicating with her, but she was pregnant, and he'd rammed right into her, so he had to check that she was not hurt.

"You all right?" he asked gruffly.

She grinned up at him and dusted off her cloak. "Yes. It's so good to see you…"

Gwaine muscled his way between them. "Oh, isn't it? Our Percival here has just selected a lovely piece of jewelry to give the woman he's courting." He stared at Caron's swollen belly and grimaced. "Should you be out and about? You look ready to give birth."

"I have three months to go." She cast Gwaine a dirty look.

Gwaine raised his eyebrows. "Well… Good luck with all that, then."

Caron huffed while Percival and Gwaine strode off. Once they were several paces away, Percival let out a loud laugh. "Gwaine, that was pretty terrible of you."

"Eh. She deserved it for being such a right bitch to my best mate. She'll get over it."

A light tap sounded on Percival's door, and that drew him out of his memories of the previous week. Fleur slipped inside. He had told her she could come right in whenever she wanted, but she insisted on knocking first. And as always, her beauty stole his breath and made his heart beat faster. Would he always feel like this when he looked at her? He could not imagine the thrill of seeing diminishing.

Percival rose to greet her and kissed her forehead. "What's that you've got?" he asked.

Fleur held up a sizeable clay jug. "It's mulled wine. It's so cold out this evening, I thought it might be nice to warm it and have a drink. Is that too presumptuous?"

"No." He took the jug by the handle and hung it from an iron hook over the hearth. "That sounds perfect."

He allowed the wine to warm, but not boil, then poured two mugs full of the fragrant liquid. He and Fleur had sipped mead or ale together with meals, but this was a first, sitting down to an entire jug of wine. If they finished it, who knew what might happen?

"Here you are." Percival handed over the mug and pulled his chair right next to Fleur's.

They sat in front of the hearth and drank. After Fleur took several healthy swallows, she freed her hair from its pins, and the glossy, blonde waves spilled down her back. She wore that dress he loved, pale blue, and snug at the top, secured with white laces. This garment was more revealing than any other clothing she owned, and displayed the barest hint of cleavage.

"You look beautiful tonight," he told her, slipping his hand into hers. "But you look beautiful every night."

"You're too sweet, Percival."

With another few swallows, she had finished her wine, and Percival was not even half done with his.

"Is something wrong, Fleur? You seem… anxious."

Fleur stood, laid down her empty mug on the table, then pulled Percival to his feet by the front of his tunic. "I want to kiss," she told him.

"Sure, we –"

He did not have the chance to say another word, because her mouth was on his, and her warm hands traveled beneath his tunic and rested on his bare chest. She slid her fingers from his collarbone down to the top of his trousers, up and down the skin of his abdomen, over and over, as their tongues stroked and explored. Percival had not even had a chance to set down his drink.

When he pulled away to divest himself of his beverage, Fleur grabbed it from his hands, took a healthy sip, laid the mug on the floor, then went back to work ravishing him.

 _No_ , he wanted to say. _If you need to be drunk to do this, we shouldn't be doing it._ But he could not resist the taste of wine on her lips and the gentle caress of her fingers massaging his chest and… lower.

 _Stop this before it goes any further!_ his mind shouted. _You are a Knight of Camelot._ He recalled some words in the Knights' Code about chivalry, respecting and honoring women, and something about proper behavior…

 _Forget it._ His body took over and he pulled Fleur right up against him. First, he rested his hands on the small of her back, then slid his palms to her firm bottom. Their tongues tangled as they kissed frantically.

Meanwhile, Fleur hooked her fingers down the front of Percival's trousers, and at the same time, he moved one hand to the front of her dress where he toyed with the laces on her bodice. The other hand remained clamped firmly on her bottom, and he kissed his way down her neck. His blood boiled with desire, and all he wanted to do was carry her to his bed and have her. But then he thought of the ring he had purchased, and how he wanted her as his wife. If he took her before they wed, she might not believe he was honorable and committed to her. He dropped his hands to his sides, letting out a long sigh as he stepped back.

"What you do to me…" he said with a shake of his head.

Fleur spun away from him and stared into the fire. "Was it like that with the others? When we kissed, did you think of the other women you'd kissed or done more with?"

"No." How could she possibly think that? "It is so much more with you. Everything is so much more with you."

"How many others were there?" she asked.

Percival hated answering this question. He did not want to hurt her. "Besides Caron, there was one other woman, but we were very young and foolish. It was once."

"I see."

Fleur would not turn around to face him, so Percival grew concerned. Did this confession make her think less of him? He could not bear that. However, Fleur deserved to know the truth. If she asked him questions, he would endeavor to answer honestly.

"I am so in love with you, Fleur. So in love." He took a step closer, but did not touch her. "Those other women meant nothing to me. Please believe that. They pale compared to you."

She turned back around and faced him, her eyes brimming with tears. "I drank tonight because I wanted to touch you so badly, but I didn't have the nerve. And I was afraid you would think I was foolish, or that I did things wrong. I know I'm inexperienced for a woman of my age."

Percival took her hands in his. "Everything about you is incredible, the way you move, your kindness, your touch… everything. I couldn't wish for a more wonderful woman in my life."

"There's something else. I grow nervous when I think about touching. Sometimes, it reminds me of what happened with that man in Cornwall."

"Then we will move slowly."

She lowered her gaze and bit her lip. "I thought we might share a bed tonight."

"Fleur?" He tipped her chin up. "You're not ready for that. And besides, there's so much more we can do before we fall into bed."

"What about your needs?" She shook slightly as she spoke those words.

"My, erm, personal needs?"

She nodded her head, and her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. "Is there a woman you'd want to see for that in the meantime?"

"What? No, Fleur! It's nothing I can't handle on my own and with a few extra chilly baths," he said with a chuckle.

"All right. But will you teach me those other things we can do before we share a bed?"

"Oh, that would be my pleasure. But you must promise to tell me if any of it makes you uncomfortable. Do I have your word?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now have a seat. I want to ask you about something else." He pulled out her chair and she eased into it. "Do you find this life boring? Sitting in front of the fire, talking, swapping stories? As Gwaine has often pointed out, I'm not the most outgoing man. I don't always care to be around lots of people. Does that bother you?"

"How can you ask that? This is my favorite thing to do, being here with you and spending my days with Rion and in the nursery. I'm very happy. But there's only one more thing I would like."

"What is it? Name it."

"Come summer, I'd like to go on a picnic and swim, the three of us."

He slid his chair closer to Fleur and pulled her feet into his lap. "Come summer, we will picnic and swim. But will we be married by then?"

With a joking eye roll, Fleur withdrew her kerchief from her belt and tossed it at Percival. He caught it and laughed. Meanwhile, Rion stirred in his bed behind the privacy curtain, and Fleur held her finger up to her lips, urging Percival to be quiet.

"Come summer," whispered Percival. "You will be my wife. I can feel it."


	17. The Breakdown

Chapter 17 – The Breakdown

A week passed, and Percival spent a good number of evenings teaching Fleur how to touch a man, and he, in return, learned what she enjoyed. He held true to the promise he made to himself – all touching and kissing would be from the waist up, and all clothing would remain mostly in place. He never took things too far, and whenever she tensed at all, he stopped immediately. But all this touching had required a good number of late-night cold-water scrub downs after she had returned to her own chamber, especially after she lifted his tunic and pressed light kisses up and down his bare chest. Still, every divine touch from her was worth it. One day, they would touch without restriction. Until then, a little creativity, extra physical training, and lots of cold water would do the trick to curb his lust.

However, Percival grew tired of waiting for Tafi's response to his letters requesting to visit Dee. He was on his way to ask King Arthur for the few days' leave time he was owed when a young merchant approached.

"Are you Sir Percival?" The young man held out a wax-sealed letter and a small item wrapped in parchment and twine. "You must be… sort of hard to miss. Quite tall…"

Percival accepted the items. "Who's this from?"

"I don't know… some fellow from the village of Hayford north of here. I can't recall his name. He just asked me to deliver this to you."

"Ah, yes. I'm expecting word from Hayford." That was where Rion's sister now lived.

The merchant cleared his throat. "And I have gone to extra trouble to find you… Gone out of my way and all."

Percival frowned and withdrew a few coins from his belt pouch. He was sure this merchant had already been paid by the sender to deliver this message; however, these young ones were always after extra coins. The merchant accepted the money with a grin and rushed off.

While leaning against the wall, Percival first tore open the small package. It was Dee's little unicorn. That was very odd. Why would Tafi return Dee's gift? Probably just to be cruel. He tucked the carved toy into his belt and unsealed the letter. When he read the words, his heart started beating a rapid staccato and he broke out in a cold sweat.

"Oh, no. Oh, gods, no…"

"Morning, Percival," said Gwaine, approaching with a smile on his face. "What've you got there?"

Percival could not speak. Trembling, he handed over the letter and Gwaine read it, and the moment he finished the missive, he let out a groan. "That is the worst news I have ever read."

"This is unreal," said Percival. "Impossible. Read it aloud, please. I have to make sure I read it right."

"Oh, you read it right…"

"Read it anyway."

Gwaine cleared his throat and read.

_Dear Sir Percival,_

_My name is Jon, and I was Tafi's neighbor. I regret to inform you that Tafi and her entire family died of yellow fever some weeks ago. However, by the time this letter makes its way into your hands, it will probably have been longer than that._

_The only reason I knew to get in touch with you was because little Dee spoke of you all the time. She was such a sweet girl._

_The villagers took care of all the funeral arrangements, so there is no need to concern yourself with that._

_Thankfully, I was able to visit with Dee several times while she was ill, and she told me that she wanted her brother to have her unicorn. She also told me she loved him very much and missed him. Will you please pass along that message to the little boy as well as the unicorn?_

_Also, please know once Dee fell ill, she was not sick for long, and her passing was very quick and peaceful._

_I am sorry to have to break the news to you this way, and I feel for Dee's brother. My condolences to you and the boy._

_Sincerely,_

_Jon_

"Gwaine, what am I to do? This is too much for one child to endure."

"You don't have to tell him right now, do you? Maybe you should wait, make up an excuse about why you can't visit Dee right now."

"No." Percival shook his head. "No, that isn't right. It's not fair to withhold something like this. I must tell Rion right away."

"Let him finish his lessons for the day," suggested Gwaine. "Let the boy have a little more peace."

"Gwaine, this will break his heart."

"I'll be there when you tell him," said Gwaine. "And Fleur should be, too."

XXXX

After conferring with both Fleur and Gwaine, Percival decided to tell Rion about his sister's passing following the midday meal. The three of them ate with Rion in the Dining Hall, but the adults toyed with their food while Rion – still not aware of his beloved little sister's death – happily ate his trout stew and bread.

Once the meal was over, the group made their way to Percival's chamber, but as they walked, Rion said, "Everyone seems very sad today. Why?"

"I received some sad news." Percival ushered the group inside and closed the door. His heart hammered in his chest; there was no easy way to say this. "Rion, why don't you have a seat on your bed?"

Rion's eyes darted from Gwaine, to Fleur, then Percival. It was clear he sensed something awful happened. "I don't want to." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me. What is it?"

Percival pulled the letter from his belt and read it; somehow, reading words that were not his own made it easier. Somewhat.

Rion scoffed and kept his arms crossed over his chest. "That's a lie. Someone is lying."

"I'm afraid not, Rion." Percival pulled Dee's unicorn from his belt and handed it to the little boy.

Tentatively, Rion accepted the unicorn and stroked the multicolored threads of its mane. After doing that for several long moments, he flung it against the wall.

"You're all liars!" screamed Rion. "This isn't true! It can't be. Why are you doing this, Percival? Whhhyyyy?" Rion charged forward and pummeled Percival's legs. Gwaine moved in to stop the Rion, but Percival held up his hand.

"No," said Percival, dropping to his knees before Rion. "Let him get it out."

Rion screamed and beat Percival's chest with his fists. "Why? Why? I hate you! I hate you all!"

After beating and screaming for what seemed like ages, he collapsed on the floor and sobbed. Fleur swept in and held him against her.

"Life can be so unfair, Rion," she said. "So unfair…"

She rocked him back and forth and he moaned, "Dee… Dee…"

After a time, Rion quieted, then stood up. His eyes were swollen from crying. "You'll all leave, too. One day I'll wake and you'll all be gone."

The problem was, Percival could not assure Rion of anything. Percival was a knight and might die in battle. But there was one thing he could do – offer the truth.

"Rion, it's awful to learn at such a young age how life can end without warning," said Percival. "I could die, any of us could die."

"Maybe this isn't the time to say such a thing," said Gwaine with a wince.

Percival carried on anyway. "But I will make you this promise: I will make sure you are cared for, should anything happen to me. I will fill out the documents and appoint a guardian straight away. Today."

"I'd do it," said Fleur immediately. "I would be honored to be Rion's guardian. Please put my name on the document and I will sign."

"I didn't even have a chance to say I would do it!" said Gwaine with a small smile. "Put my name down, too, then Fleur and I can fight over him."

Gwaine nudged Fleur with an elbow and she smiled at him.

Tears clogged Percival's throat. "I could not love the three of you more if I tried." Still on his knees, he scooted toward Rion. "What can I do for you right now, Rion?"

"I… I'd like to lie in my bed and read, alone," said the boy. "I don't want to speak with anyone right now."

Rion padded over to where the unicorn lay. Fortunately, it had not broken. He gripped it in his fist, then walked to his bed, pausing to pick up his stuffed dragon on the way. He hugged the plush toy, snatched his falcon feather from his desk, then drew his privacy curtain.

"I need to hasten the adoption proceedings." Percival stared at the drawn curtain. "And get that guardianship document filled out immediately."

"Why don't you see the king right now?" said Fleur. "I'll stay with Rion."

_Gods, stay with me, too_ , thought Percival, his heart burning with sadness for his ward.

XXXX

The first night after Rion learned his sister died was almost as agonizing as Percival thought the fiery underworld might be. Rion fell asleep early, but the moment Percival lay down, the child woke from a night terror, screaming, "Dee! Mum! Come back!"

Percival flew to the bed and rocked Rion in his arms. "I'm here. I'm here."

But Rion sobbed and sobbed, periodically wailing, "Dee! Mum…" His grief, palpable and heartbreaking, filled the room.

Rion cried until he was exhausted, then fell asleep again. However, once more, the moment Percival closed his eyes, Rion woke in another panic. This went on all night long until Fleur turned up in the morning to take Rion to his lessons.

"I'm afraid Rion had an awful night and won't be able to go to lessons today," Percival started, but Rion flung himself out of bed.

"I want to go to my lessons!" he shouted. "Don't make me miss them."

Percival could hardly see straight after a night of no sleep. How was this child able to form a coherent sentence when Percival's thoughts came as slow as mud?

"Perhaps it would be better," said Fleur, "to allow him to be with his friends and try to have a normal day?"

Good. Fleur was making the decisions and that was precisely what Percival needed. He turned to Rion. "Hurry with your washing and dressing."

"Percival? Why don't you allow me to take Rion later? He can sleep in my quarters on the cot. You look exhausted."

"No, it's fine, really. I know what he's going through. He needs me."

That was true and Percival's primary concern, but the other issue was that Percival did not want Fleur to see him as weak or incapable. He needed to prove he would make a fine husband, that he was a capable man who would take care of her needs, and that started with taking care of his own ward. What good was he if he could not manage a child?

Even so, Rion's misery carried on. He would be all right during the day, but when night fell in earnest, and Percival was just about ready to sleep, Rion would wake screaming for his mother and sister, and do so on and off all night. Each time Rion cried, Percival went to the child and tried to soothe him. Percival understood the panic and terror brought on by the darkness after one's family died. The fear of death and abandonment seemed more frightening during the small hours.

And all this turmoil forced Percival's thoughts back to that memory he had avoided dwelling upon for many, many years – the day of his family's death. In his extreme exhaustion, he could not seem to help but remember it all.

Percival, age seven, had been ill for a few days with a sore throat and fever, but woke early that morning feeling a little better. "Get a little more sleep," he recalled his mother saying. "By tomorrow, you'll feel all better."

Owen – their elderly family friend – had been visiting, and he had gone out to collect some herbs to help with Percival's illness. Percival had just drifted off when he heard the front door smash open. Disoriented, he assumed he was dreaming. However, his mother's ear-splitting screams and the sounds of furniture splintering down in the main living area forced him into alertness.

"Stop it!" his father bellowed. "Spare them. Take me, please!"

There was a struggle, another scream, then silence.

Terrified, Percival clambered out of his bed in the loft and rushed down the ladder. Before his feet hit the floor, Owen yanked Percival off the ladder and covered his eyes.

"Don't look, Percival," the man ordered.

People were screaming in the streets and Percival smelled thatch burning, but the rest of his family was silent. Perched in Owen's arms, in a panic, Percival shoved away the old man's hands and saw them, his family, each one run through by a sword. They lay on the wooden floor in front of the hearth, bloodied, pale, and dead.

Owen rushed Percival out of the house and into the street. "It was King Cenred's men," explained Owen. "A show of force, they said."

Percival had heard his parents' late night whisperings about the eighteen-year-old king of Essetir – the kingdom just to the east – and their concerns about him. All their words had been true. The king and his men were monsters.

Wood smoke from the many house fires Cenred set wafted toward Percival, clouding his vision and making him gag, but he did not cry then. He saved his tears for later. But once they fell, they were almost impossible to stop.

Blocking out those horrid memories, Percival – on the seventh morning following Dee's death – dragged himself out of bed. He had gotten so little sleep of late he could hardly function and found himself fighting tears. He was a knight who had experienced intense combat training under King Arthur's leadership, during which Percival had endured burns, cuts, and mace blows to the head. He had run until his legs gave out and had swum until he vomited. But the one aspect of combat training he had found the most unbearable was the sleep deprivation. Percival had not done well with it then and now was no different. And this, parenting a grieving child, _seemed_ like combat; it was that challenging. That coupled with the memories of ghosts from his past made the day almost unbearable.

However, he could not and would not ask for help, even though Fleur begged him each day to allow her to help more. Percival simply would not hear of it. Rion was going to be his son and Percival would be the one to help him. That was a father's job.

After seeing Rion to his lessons, with fumbling hands, Percival dragged on his mail shirt, clumsily clasped his cloak, and half-stumbled down to the Round Table for a council meeting. Gwaine babbled nonsense on the way, and Percival nodded his head pretending to listen, but he was too exhausted to take in Gwaine's words. By the time he made it to his seat at the table, his vision swam and he swore he saw spiders crawling up his arm. Wonderful. Now he was seeing things.

King Arthur mentioned something about one of Odin's ships wrecking on Camelot's southern seaside village of Abertawe. The village withstood its share of raids, because Abertawe was a wealthy place, rich in copper, and a busy port. Both pirates and rulers coveted their wealth. And sacking Abertawe would allow invaders a clear path north into the heart of Camelot.

Regardless of the importance of this information, Percival found it difficult to focus. The king's low, rumbling voice almost lulled Percival to sleep. What if he closed his eyes for a moment and took a quick rest? What was the harm in that?

Someone punched Percival's arm and he started. The knights seated around the table stared at him and chuckled. Oh, damn it all. He must have fallen asleep.

"Percival, please see me when our meeting's done," said King Arthur. The king did not sound cross, but a knot formed in Percival's gut. He was making a mess of things as both a father and a knight.

"My lord, I'm so sorry…"

"After the meeting, Percival."

When the meeting concluded, Percival wanted to beg Gwaine to remain behind in support, but that was not possible, since King Arthur ushered Percival upstairs to the solar.

"Percival, have a seat," said the king the moment they entered.

"Sire, forgive me. I did not mean to fall asleep. Please know I meant no disrespect. I am just –"

"Completely exhausted, Percival. I can see that. Is it the boy?"

"Yes. His sister died, his last living family member. And he can't sleep, which means I can't sleep…"

"I understand." The king dropped a hand onto Percival's shoulder. "You are to take the rest of the day off, and tomorrow, too."

Percival sat up straight. "My lord, no. I can do this. I don't need the time off."

"Sorry, but I insist. Gwaine had to take the day off once because he fell down the stairs drunk. I think you're entitled, given the circumstances. You _are_ permitted time off, Percival, and you have hardly taken any."

"But –"

Arthur cut him off. "If you're not going to look out for yourself, I will. Go rest. That's an order. I will see you the day after tomorrow."

Percival rose, bowed, and with a frown on his face, he went straight to his quarters. He managed a short nap, not nearly as long as he needed, but it was long enough that he felt some of his strength return, and was well enough to sit upright and eat the midday meal with Rion and Fleur in his chambers. She had brought food, thank goodness. He had wanted to toss himself into her arms and weep with gratitude, but instead, he focused his energy on eating a hearty turnip and pork pottage.

Fleur kept Rion engaged in conversation, for which Percival was grateful, because speaking required too much concentration.

Percival did not recall exactly what happened during the rest of the day, only bits and pieces of it, such as Rion perched at his writing desk writing on his wax tablet, and Fleur coddling Percival and rubbing his feet.

Somehow, much to Percival's surprise, nighttime had fallen, and Fleur stood behind him, massaging his shoulders.

"Let me take Rion tonight," she said. "Your body needs proper sleep, Percival, or you'll get ill."

"I'm feeling better after my nap this afternoon." He patted her hand. "We'll be fine."

She moved in front of him and cradled his face in her hands. "If you change your mind, come get me at any time."

"I will." He pressed a soft kiss of thanks to her lips, and she left.

But on this, the seventh night since Rion had received word his sister died, it happened again, Rion screaming and crying. Percival's body begged for sleep; he could not do this again without help. He grabbed up Rion and spoke soothing words to the boy, but rushed for Fleur's chamber. Percival gave one light tap, and Fleur was at the door, dressed and ready. She must have been expecting this.

"Fleur, I need you." A tear of exhaustion slipped down Percival's cheek. He was crying like a woman, but he no longer cared. Crippling weariness had stripped him of all pride.

Fleur collected Rion and settled him into a cot close to her bed, one piled with soft blankets. Rion was already asleep.

"Wait." Percival's voice trembled with emotion and fatigue. "He won't be able to sleep without his dragon. And he needs his feather. They soothe him."

Fleur wrapped her arm around Percival's waist. She smelled so good, like that lavender hair oil he loved. "Let's get it and settle you into your own bed."

Unable to argue, Percival simply nodded and allowed Fleur to guide him to his chamber. In what seemed like two heartbeats, he was dressed in his long nightshirt and tucked into bed.

"Sleep well, love." Fleur leaned down, kissed his cheek, and drew his bed hangings.

Percival heard the soft click of his door closing and fell right asleep.

XXXX

Sun filtered through the dark fabric of Percival's bed hangings. Was it midday? For a moment, panic seized him, and he thought he was late for his duties, but then he recalled the king had forced him to take the day off, so he relaxed. Still, luxuriating in bed seemed decadent and unproductive, so he stretched, yanked back the hangings, and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. Just as he did that, without a knock, Fleur entered the chamber.

"How are you?" Her eyes narrowed in concern as she approached.

"Honestly, I feel like a new man. It's a miracle what sleep can do." Percival stretched his arms over his head, then stood. "But is it midday? It seems late."

"No, it's still morning, just very sunny, but cold. Rion's at his lessons."

"How did he fare last night?"

"Slept like a babe."

Percival chuckled and made his way behind his privacy curtain to dress. "That makes two of us."

"Percival? May I say something?"

"Of course."

"You are doing a wonderful job with Rion, but there is strength in recognizing your limits and asking for help when needed."

Percival cinched his belt, came out from behind the privacy curtain, and wrapped his arms around Fleur. He admired Fleur more than he could express. She had endured a violent attack, and such an experience might have turned so many women bitter and cold, but not Fleur. She had flourished despite the pain. Percival wished he could show her attacker how wonderful she was and how well she was doing. And then snap his neck. However, unable to put his feelings into words, Percival instead leaned down and kissed her.

"Thank you for everything, Fleur," he said, once their kiss ended. "And it looks like we have some time alone. What shall we do with the freedom?"

"Let's see…" Fleur gazed up at the ceiling and tapped her chin as if deep in thought. "Perhaps we could kiss more."

He cradled the back of her head and spoke with his lips just brushing hers. "Perfect plan."


	18. The Building Up

Chapter 18 – The Building Up

Somehow, bit by bit, Percival and Rion eased into a time of tranquility. Healing came slowly for Rion, as was to be expected after such a devastating loss, but it came.

The first victory occurred when Rion did not cry for a half day. Then it was a full day. A few weeks later, Rion gave his first genuine laugh since his sister died. Percival understood the importance of that simple act; to move beyond grief took incredible strength.

Each day, Rion's zeal for life seemed to return a little more. It was the afternoon of Yule feast, and Rion had gone two whole days without weeping or nightmares. He and Percival sparred out on the training field in the bitter cold, and that was when it happened – with a cunning sidestep and a forceful parry, Rion disarmed Percival. It was a moment Percival would never forget.

Percival ruffled Rion's hair. "I need to watch out for you."

One day, Rion would surpass Percival in sword-fighting skills, and that was what Percival wanted, what every mentor desired, for their protégés to shine. Percival's chest tightened with emotion, and he wanted nothing more than for this adoption to be finalized so he might officially call Rion his son. But little could be done to hasten the process, he had come to learn, as there were certain waiting periods required by the laws of Camelot allowing people to contest the adoption due to kinship. So far, no one had.

Fleur, who had been watching the sparring from off to the side, rushed the field and hugged Rion. "Look at you!" she said, beaming.

"Can we make a wager, Fleur?" asked Rion.

"What type of wager?"

"If I can disarm Percival again, will you marry him?"

The smile fell from Fleur's lips. "Rion, I'm afraid it's not that simple."

He stepped back from her embrace. "What makes it hard? You love him, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And he loves you, that's easy to see. Besides, I hear him asking you to marry him each night."

Percival swallowed. What else had Rion heard? It was not as if Percival and Fleur had done anything wildly inappropriate in the bedchamber while Rion slept, but there had been an awful lot of frantic kissing going on.

"Sometimes there are private matters between adults that are difficult for children to understand," Fleur explained.

Rion leaned against his sword hilt, a serious expression on his face. He looked far older than seven years. "You adults make it difficult, I say."

A small smile curved Fleur's lips. "Perhaps that's true."

Percival wanted to toss up his hands in frustration. Wasn't that what he had been saying all along? Why did the words need to be spoken by a child for Fleur to take seriously? However, Percival said nothing. If Rion's observation moved things along between Percival and Fleur, Percival would take all the help he could get.

Fleur shot Percival a pleading look, so he stepped in.

"We should prepare for the feast tonight," said Percival. "There's lots to do. We need to go to the market and dress, and… all that."

Rion brightened. "Yes, the feast!" he said, seeming to forget all about Percival and Fleur's relationship. "Can I wear my cloak tonight, the one Sir Gwaine gave me? And the gloves from Sir Elyan?"

"Yes. Now let's move along."

XXXX

The Yule feast started out beautifully. How could one complain about tables piled high with sweet and succulent foods, festive music, and a huge Yule log crackling in the massive hearth of the Great Hall?

Percival, Fleur, Rion, and Gwaine sat together at a long table and indulged in the holiday meal featuring a whole roasted boar and platters of cooked geese stuffed with apples and prunes. Following the meal, they drank spiced cider – strong cider for the adults and weak cider for the children – laughed, and danced around the pine-garland-festooned Hall. Rion had chosen to run about with his friends and play a game of tag off to the side, which allowed Percival and Fleur plenty of time to dance closely. What did it matter if most of the music was meant for upbeat dancing?

Often, men approached Percival, slapped him on the back, and winked. Clearly, he had their approval when it came to courting Fleur.

And once again, Merlin seemed subdued, probably thinking about his lost love, but he still approached Percival and Fleur and commented that they made a lovely couple.

After a time, several nursemaids, young and old, pulled Fleur into a women's dance, so Percival took a seat back at his table. Gwaine sat there, drinking and scowling up at the head table. When Percival moved closer to his friend, the smell of strong cider coming from Gwaine's breath almost knocked Percival over.

"Gwaine, damn, go easy on the cider."

"Oh, what do you know?" Gwaine cast another dirty look at the head table, then drained his tankard.

"Why are you glaring at the king? What's wrong?"

Gwaine's head swiveled around to look at Percival. "I am not _glaring_ at the king. And besides, you're the last person who should pass judgment."

Obviously, Gwaine was going to be a mean drunk tonight. It did not happen often, but when it did, the results were usually awful and Gwaine ended up fist-fighting with someone. Percival had no intention of coming to blows with his friend, but still, Gwaine's words irritated him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Percival, his words clipped.

"It means, why are you not married yet?"

"It'll happen in time."

"Mhm." Gwaine grabbed a pitcher and refilled his tankard to the brim with cider. "Right."

"Oh, speak your mind, Gwaine."

"All right, I will. You're moving too slowly with your woman. Be forceful. You're the strapping Sir Percival, damn it! Bend the woman to your will."

"That is your sage advice? That I should bend Fleur to my will? Forgive me, but where's your wife?"

The old shine of humor returned to Gwaine's eyes. "I don't need one! I am never settling down."

"Instead of hiding behind a tankard, why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

Gwaine waved his hand in the air. "It's nothing." He slid a full tankard toward Percival. "It's Yule; time to drink."

Percival sensed there was more to it, but decided not to pressure Gwaine into talking. He took a few sips from the tankard, until the nursemaids – including Fleur – pulled Percival and Gwaine up from the bench and dragged them onto the dance floor. Cheerful music filled the Hall, and Gwaine seemed to enjoy himself after that. Rion ran around until he collapsed in a corner with his friends, where they all fell asleep right on the floor.

It had grown late; the music ended, the Yule log glowed dimly, and the revelers had begun to disperse. Gwaine slipped from the Hall quietly and alone, and meanwhile, Percival collected Rion into his arms.

"We'll walk you to your chamber," Percival told Fleur, when he really wanted to beg her to come to his quarters and spend the night. Although his thoughts were a little fuzzy from the cider, he erred on the side of propriety and refrained from asking her to join him.

Fleur placed her hand on his elbow and allowed Percival to walk her to her chamber, while Rion remained sound asleep in Percival's arms.

"I have gifts for you and Rion," she said when they reached her room. "Let me fetch them."

"You needn't have gone to any trouble."

It was tradition to exchange small gifts for Yule. In fact, Percival and Rion had exchanged their presents earlier. Percival had given Rion several writing quills dyed vibrant greens and yellows, as well as a tinderbox, into which he had slipped a coin. In turn, Rion gave Percival socks lined with rabbit fur, and surprisingly, the socks fit Percival's large feet (a rarity) and were very comfortable.

Percival had wanted to present Rion and Fleur with lavish gifts, but that was not the custom and he restrained himself. However, he carried Fleur's gift in his belt pouch.

With a smile on her face, Fleur returned to the door. "This is for Rion." She held out a small stuffed white dragon. "I thought he would enjoy it if his large dragon had company."

Rion woke for a moment, to mutter, “Dragon…” then fell right back asleep. Percival and Fleur chuckled, and Fleur stuffed the toy in the in the crook of Rion’s arm. 

"And this is for you, Percival." She handed over a black crystal the size of a large cherry, polished to a high gloss, with a dip in the center. "It's a schorl crystal. If you rub it before battle, or when you need luck, it's said to offer strong protection and good fortune."

Percival clutched it in his free hand. "Fleur, this must have been so difficult to obtain, but I thank you. I will carry it with me always." He slipped the precious crystal into his belt pouch, withdrew her gift, and held it out for her to take. "It seems as if we were thinking the same thing. This is a moonstone ring. It's thought to bring health, healing, and love." The jeweler also noted it helped with fertility, but Percival did not mention that.

Fleur took a moment to study the white pinky ring before she slipped it onto her finger. "I will treasure this. Thank you."

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "Blessed Yule, Fleur."

This was the first Yule Percival could recall where he felt truly blessed.

XXXX

During the twelve days of Yule, lessons were cut short for the children of the castle and lasted only an hour per day. For many years, Geoffrey expounded that during Yule, children could not focus, thanks to all the feasting and celebrations. Besides, many traveled to visit family during this time, so introducing new material was fruitless. For the most part, children spent their hour of lessons performing short skits and creating artwork to accompany it.

On the final morning of Yule, Percival had the day off from his duties, and he and Fleur spent the morning napping on the furs in front of the hearth. Well, there had been a little napping and a lot of kissing and groping. He never took her to his bed; that he would save for their wedding. And he would make sure her virtue was intact for that night, as much as it killed him to wait. All the cold baths in the world no longer seemed to help.

"Percival, Fleur!"

The chamber door flew open and bounced against the wall. Percival immediately rolled off Fleur. He had not expected Rion back so soon, and he was mortified at being caught in such a position, but Rion did not seem to notice nor care.

"The boys said the creek is frozen. Can you believe it? Frozen solid! It's never frozen before!"

"Well, that's –" Percival started, but Rion cut him off.

"The boys are going to slide on the ice. My best friend, Angan, is going." Rion slapped his head against his forehead. "I forgot to tell you he's my best friend. He's nine. Anyway, can I go, too? Can we all go?"

"Well, it's a little –"

"Please, Percival, please, please, please?"

Rion hopped around in a circle, and Percival laughed. He had not seen the boy so full of excitement since his sister died. Percival could not deny him.

"All right, we'll all go, but we must bundle up. Hasn't been this cold in Camelot for so long…"

Percival, Rion, and Fleur donned heavy winter cloaks, hoods, and fur-lined boots and gloves. They stepped outside, and it was still cold enough to steal one's breath. A fine layer of snow glazed the land, and a hazy sun tried to fight its way through the winter clouds; it was unsuccessful.

The three of them half slid, half stomped their way to the creek in the Darkling Woods. Children by the dozens were already there, along with their parents. Several fathers clomped around on the ice and declared it fit to stand on, so the children rushed the creek. Many of the older children had lashed sticks to their feet to give them more momentum on the frozen surface.

Rion all but dragged Percival and Fleur out onto the slippery ice. After a few near-falls, Fleur, with a laugh, said, "Rion, I'm afraid this isn't for me, but I will watch you from the bank."

Percival helped Fleur off the ice while Rion clung to the edge of Percival's cloak. Percival nearly went down on his arse. No, this was not for him, either, but Percival did not want to dampen Rion's joy, so he returned to the center of the creek and slid around on wobbly legs.

A group of three boys glided by, but when they saw Rion, they stopped short.

"Hey, Rion, you're here!" shouted a boy who looked a year or two older than Rion, a child with a mop of curly dark hair, pale green eyes, and a friendly smile. "Come with us."

"I'm coming, Angan!" Grinning, and his face flushed with cold and excitement, Rion pushed off Percival and slid toward the boys. He crashed into the trio of youngsters, and they all caught him, laughing.

"Bye, Father!" Rion shouted over his shoulder. "I won't go too far."

The chattering boys dragged Rion off, and Percival stood there, stunned. He swung his head around to look at Fleur, who stood only a few paces away on the creek bank, and she was smiling at him.

"Did you hear that?" asked Percival, his words full of awe. "He called me 'Father.'"

"I did." She wiped at her eyes. "How wonderful."

More and more people turned up at the creek, young and old. However, when the blacksmith's teenage son and daughter arrived with new contraptions strapped to their feet – wooden boards with what looked like a single short sword blade affixed to the center of the underside – everyone paused and looked on in amazement. At first, the two of them fumbled and slipped, but within moments, they sped up and down the creek as fast as a horse might gallop. After they skated up and down a few times, they allowed others to try their coveted footwear.

Percival, tired of slipping and possibly looking like a fool, clambered off the ice and stood next to Fleur. He draped his arm around her and they watched Rion playing with his friends. Soon thereafter, Gwaine strode onto the ice.

"Hey, you two… Whoa!" said Gwaine. Arms flailing, he fell right on his arse.

"Are you hurt?" asked Fleur with concern.

"No, no. Just, ah… getting my footing."

Percival tried hard to bite back his laughter, but Gwaine was awful. The man could not stand for one moment without collapsing in a heap on the slippery surface. A few boys took pity on him and helped him slide around a bit.

The ladies from the brothel arrived, shouting and laughing, and dressed adequately for the cold. They rushed the ice. The women were all solid on their feet, except Anaed. She spun out of control, grabbing onto Gwaine to stop her fall, and they both went down. After a great deal of struggling and howling with laughter, they righted themselves, only to have Anaed fall again an instant later. She ended up on her knees before Gwaine – quite the awkward position – and the two of them laughed with such hysteria Gwaine fell down once more.

Percival observed his good friend closely, and spotted Gwaine giving Anaed a smile filled with affection. Well, why not Anaed? If she would be willing to change her profession… Percival was getting ahead of himself. Gwaine and Anaed were just friends. Still, it would be nice if Gwaine found something to make him a little less cranky these days.

Instead of focusing on Gwaine, Percival pulled Fleur into his arms. "You are too beautiful for words," he said.

"Oh, you always say such sweet things."

They turned at the same time to watch Rion help up a little girl.

"He feels like ours today, doesn't he?" asked Percival. "Our child."

"He truly does."

_Thank you, Idele,_ thought Percival. _I am so sorry you are gone, but I love your boy. Our boy. I hope you can see how happy he is, and I hope you are at peace. Dee, too._

Percival kissed the top of Fleur's head and watched his son play.


	19. Even the Best of Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are at chapter 19. We're going to see some conflict between Percival and Gwaine. As the chapter title indicates, sometimes, even the best of friends fight. I don't think it would be a real friendship if they get along perfectly all the time. And here is where Gwaine will make a confession, something that he's been hiding for years.
> 
> Further, there's a shift in Percival and Fleur's relationship. Onward!

Chapter 19 – Even the Best of Friends

It was Imbolc, about a month after Yule ended. By this time, the worst of the biting cold had normally passed, but not this year. It appeared as if winter would linger in Camelot, and a protracted winter tended to put the kingdom's residents in a foul mood.

Since tempers were short, there had been a large-scale fight at the mill in the Lower Town. A group of young men argued about their places in line, an altercation erupted, during which property was damaged, and a fire started thanks to a brazier that had been knocked over. Innocent bystanders had been hurt during the melee, and the instigators had been taken into custody. They would languish in the dungeons for a good week. Percival, Gwaine, Leon, and King Arthur had remained behind to offer help with cleanup and escorting people home, but now, they rode for the castle. Arthur had them take the long route through the western path of the Darkling Woods.

"Might as well get in a little patrolling," said Arthur.

And speaking of foul moods, Gwaine had taken a knee to the bollocks while breaking up the fight, and he sat on his horse with a scowl on his face and his eyes narrowed. Percival figured it was best to give Gwaine some space.

"How's your woman?" said Gwaine sarcastically, pulling his horse alongside Percival's.

"Fleur's fine, thank you, but since you're her friend, you already know that."

"She's sort of tall, isn't she?"

Percival gripped the leather reins in his fists. Since Gwaine was in an irritable mood he wanted Percival to be cranky, too. Well, Percival would not take the bait today.

"She may be," said Percival in an even tone, "but so am I."

"I find her height to be a little imposing." Gwaine pulled so close his boot brushed Percival's. "I don't want to be dominated by a woman in bed. I like robust women, don't get me wrong, but a woman as tall as a war horse…"

A hot rage erupting inside him, Percival released the reins, flung himself out of his saddle, and knocked Gwaine to the ground with a resounding crash. Percival was always one to think before he acted, but this time, Gwaine had gone too far. How dare the man insult the woman Percival loved, speak of her in such crass and crude ways!

As Percival and Gwaine lay tangled on the ground, Percival's fists flew, but Gwaine mostly blocked the strikes.

"Are you a madman?" shouted Gwaine, moving his head to the side to avoid another punch.

"You will not disrespect the woman I love!"

The fight was over in moments, because Leon and the king had Percival and Gwaine separated.

Arthur, standing between Gwaine and Percival, seethed. "This is conduct unbecoming a knight!" His head spun to Gwaine first. "How dare you insult Percival's woman." Then, his blue eyes bright with anger, Arthur rounded on Percival. "And you, flying off your horse and hitting your friend and fellow knight? You men are supposed to set examples!"

"I-I'm sorry, my lord," said Percival, immediately recognizing the enormity of what he had done, attacking his friend. He should have ignored Gwaine's juvenile taunts. "I don't know what came over me."

"Apparently, love has scrambled your good sense," said Arthur. "Given the fact the two of you have behaved appallingly, I know just the place for you."

Like bickering boys, Percival and Gwaine refused to look at one another on the way to the castle. Once they arrived, King Arthur all but dragged them upstairs to the armory, shoved them inside, then bolted the door from the outside so they could not leave.

"Once you men have worked out your differences, let me know, and then you can come out, but not a moment sooner. If you want to act like children, then I'll treat you like children," proclaimed Arthur.

His footsteps faded down the hallway, and nothing but a heavy silence remained.

"Perhaps this is a stupid question," said Gwaine, "but how are we to let Arthur know anything if he's gone?"

Percival sat on a bench and glared out the window, refusing to answer. Unless Gwaine groveled at his feet in apology, Percival would not budge; he would not speak a word. Apparently, Gwaine had the same idea about silence, because after that question, he did not speak, either.

The men sat on benches opposite one another until the afternoon slid into evening. The single torch in the armory burned low, so they'd be sitting in near darkness soon. Percival was tired, thirsty, and really needed to relieve himself, but he would not budge until Gwaine did.

"Gods, I have to piss," mumbled Gwaine, and he rushed off into the corner to use the chamber pot.

Percival could not hold it any longer, so once Gwaine was done, Percival used the pot. He marched back to his seat by the window. Perhaps he and Gwaine would die in here, because neither of them seemed willing to talk. However, the moment the torch sputtered out and the room fell into darkness, Gwaine muttered, "Fine."

"'Fine' what?" snapped Percival.

"I'm jealous of you. Among others," Gwaine blurted out. "But mostly you. I always have been."

Percival scoffed. "That's ridiculous. Why? I'm not all that special."

"I'm envious for about a thousand reasons. Do you need me to name them?"

"One or two reasons would be helpful, because I do not understand why you did what you did earlier."

"All right. First, everyone loves and respects you. Me? I'm often viewed as a joke."

"That's not true," said Percival.

"What about when I got drunk and fell down a flight of stairs?"

"Maybe _then_." Percival smiled in the darkness.

Gwaine clambered over to Percival's bench. "The other problem is that I'm jealous of the fact you're in love, that you have a good woman who adores you."

"Why's that? You always carry on about how you'll never settle down, never marry, about how you like 'variety' in your bedchamber…"

"It's a cover-up. Because I am in love with someone I can never have."

Percival wondered if this was a joke. Gwaine? In love? "Are you going to tell me who she is?"

Gwaine shifted in his seat and did not answer for several long moments. "The queen."

Percival almost fell off his bench. Gwaine would not say such a thing unless he really meant it. "Our queen?" asked Percival, just to be sure.

"Yes. I fell in love with her the first time I saw her. This was before she married Arthur, back when she was a serving girl. She was carrying her wash, and something about her drew me in. I tried my usual tricks trying to woo her, but she wouldn't give in. She was bold, sassy, and beautiful. I tried to stop loving her over the years, but I can't seem to do it.

"Since it wouldn't be fair to make another woman second-best, I have temporary arrangements with ladies, ones that last a few days or a week at most."

"But you might fall in love with someone else if you allowed it," said Percival.

"That's not happening. This is how it is for me, pining for a woman I can never have, carousing and taunting my best friend because I am a stupid, jealous arse. I hope you can forgive me."

"But there are plenty of women, Gwaine…" Percival allowed his words to trail off. "Never mind. I always hated when people used that adage with me."

Gwaine slid down the bench, moving even closer to Percival. "Do you forgive me? Jealousy is my worst character flaw, but I promise, I'll do better. Be a better friend. And I'm glad I finally told you the truth."

"I forgive you. But let me ask you something… how's your jaw? I got in one good punch out in the woods."

"It smarts. A lot."

Silence hung in the air for several heartbeats, but then Gwaine and Percival were seized by laughter. Their friendship was strong. They'd move past this just as they had moved past their other conflicts. And no matter what, Percival would never share Gwaine's secret. To do so might mean Gwaine's execution. It was not acceptable to be in love with a married royal, especially not King Arthur's queen.

Once the men pulled themselves together, Percival said, "I have one more question – What do you think of Anaed?"

"Anaed?" Gwaine drummed his fingers on the bench as if stalling. "She's very beautiful. And fun. And smart."

Percival decided not to press the issue, so he changed the subject. "Do you think Arthur will ever let us out of here?"

"I hope so, because I am starving."

"Me, too. I hope he told Rion and Fleur where I am. I don't want them to worry."

Right then, the door swung open, flooding the armory with amber torchlight, forcing Gwaine and Percival to squint against the sudden brightness. King Arthur stepped inside.

"I thought I heard laughter," said Arthur, "so I assume all is well between you two."

"It is," replied Gwaine. "All's well."

"Good. I expect to never see such behavior again from either of you. And I had the cooks save a hot plate of supper for you in the Dining Hall, if you're hungry.

Percival and Gwaine jokingly shoved one another as they ran from the room.

"Gods above, let it be roast boar!" shouted Gwaine, as he careened down the corridor. However, he paused, then spun around and faced Percival. "By the way, I do think Fleur is very beautiful. I didn't mean a word of what I said back in the woods."

Percival smiled at his friend. "I know."

"And, uh, what we spoke about before? About a certain person..."

"We'll not speak of that again."

With a grateful nod, Gwaine spun back around and dashed for the stairs. "Supper is calling!"

XXXX

Percival turned twenty-three soon after Imbolc. He was not one for large gatherings to celebrate his birthday, so instead, Fleur marked the day by hosting a small supper in his chamber with Gwaine, Rion, Leon, and Merlin. She served a creamy spinach soup topped with bacon to start, then herb-crusted roast pheasants so delectable the men picked them clean, leaving only pure white bones.

During the celebration, Gwaine smacked his lips together. "This food is incredible. Damn, Fleur, you are a near-perfect woman!"

She flushed at the compliment and Gwaine winked at Percival. Though the two men had moved past their conflict that day in the woods, Percival still appreciated that Gwaine was going out of his way to commend Fleur and be kind to her.

Once the party wound down, the guests left, and Rion fell right into bed, snoring only moments after his head touched the pillow. Percival and Fleur spread out furs in front of the warm hearth, and stayed up late, giggling and drinking mead. Pleasantly inebriated and in a fine mood, Percival asked his usual question: "So, Fleur, will you marry me?" He asked in a casual way and hardly looked at her as he spoke. After all, he knew the answer.

"Yes."

"Well, that's – Wait…" He swallowed hard and stared at her with wide eyes. "Did you say yes?"

She grinned at him. "I said yes."

Shocked, Percival's grip on his tankard loosened, and the vessel tipped to the side. Mead poured out all over the floor, but he did not even realize he was making an awful mess. "Say it again."

"Yes." Fleur, her glossy locks spilling over her shoulders, leaned in and kissed Percival's forehead. "Yes." She kissed the tip of his nose. "Yes." Fleur planted a final hard kiss to his lips.

He dropped his now-empty tankard onto the furs, scuttled backward along the mead-soaked floor, then leapt to his feet. "Do not move! Just… don't!"

Percival flung himself at his wardrobe, then tossed clothing onto the floor until he found the small wooden box that contained Fleur's ring. He grabbed it and returned to her, immediately dropping to his knees. In his mind, he had often rehearsed the lengthy speech he'd planned to say when Fleur finally accepted his marriage proposal, but in this moment, he could not seem to recall a word of it, so instead, he spoke from the heart.

"Fleur." He opened the carved box and revealed the ring. She covered her mouth and gasped. "As I have said before, I am so in love with you. I thank the gods every day that I ran into you and your laundry basket this past summer. From the moment I saw you, I knew you had to be mine, and I promise to love and treasure you always. Now, one more time, just so I'm certain, will you marry me?"

Tears of joy ran down her face. "Yes."

Percival slid the ring onto her finger and they kissed. But now that they had this bond between them, this promise of marriage, it was like kissing her again for the first time, so fresh, new, and full of passion.

Still cupping her face, he leaned back. "Before you change your mind, when can we wed? Soon? Say soon."

"I would like a Beltane wedding," said Fleur. "It'll be warm and the flowers will be in full bloom. Do you mind?"

Percival held back a frown. Nine weeks? That seemed so far away. However, he had already waited for more than a half-year. What was another few weeks? And besides, he'd often heard women favored marrying at Beltane, as they believed it ensured a long and happy marriage, _and_ plenty of fresh flowers would be available on the day. If that was what Fleur wanted, that was what he wanted.

"Beltane it is," he told her.

"Should we share the news with Rion right away?"

"We should."

Percival drew back the privacy curtain and tapped Rion's shoulder. Fleur stood right beside Percival.

"Wha's happening?" slurred Rion from bed, opening his eyes a bare crack.

"Fleur and I are getting married at Beltane," said Percival. "Are you happy about that?"

"What?" Rion sat right up and his sleepy eyes focused. "Yes! I am very happy. And can I be the best man?"

Percival had not considered that before; he always assumed Gwaine would be his best man. But why not have two best men? There was no rule against that. "You and Gwaine will be my two best men."

"Two best men? That sounds good." Rion lay back again. "But I am tired…"

"Go back to sleep, Rion." Fleur kissed his brow. "We'll see you in the morning."

XXXX

Several afternoons later, the midday meal was over, and Rion went out with Gwaine for a riding lesson. Percival and Fleur had the day off from their duties, and Percival found himself flat on his back in Fleur's bed. She straddled him and kissed her way from his lower abdomen up to his chest, trying to peel off his tunic as she did so.

Ever since their betrothal, she had expressed her desire to make love. She was like a new woman, free from fear of intimacy, confident in the way she kissed and touched.

Percival lay on his back, breathing hard, willing himself to exercise control, as Fleur pressed butterfly-light kisses to his chest. When her hand brushed against his crotch, raw passion ignited his blood. Then he reminded himself of his promise to wait until their wedding. He pulled down his tunic.

"Percival, what's wrong?"

"I want to wait."

"You _want_ to wait?"

"Not really." He jumped off Fleur's bed. "But it's the right thing to do. I want to honor your virtue."

"I don't care about any of that. We'll be wed soon enough. And I'm ready _now_."

"Then let's marry tomorrow."

Fleur stuck out her bottom lip in a playful pout and sat cross-legged on the bed. "But I had my heart set on Beltane. We'll have a beautiful wedding in the garden, small and colorful…"

Her tongue tapped her upper lip and Percival groaned. Why did she have to tempt him so much?

"Love, I've made mistakes in the past with women. I want to do the right thing with you, to be honorable and wait. Please don't make it any harder than it is. And it's already nearly impossible."

"All right. This is important to you. We'll wait."

Percival forced a smile. "Great."

He hoped his bollocks would stop aching with desire sometime between now and Beltane. 


	20. That Special Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – All right, here is chapter twenty. Ten more chapters to go and then the epilogue.
> 
> Several weeks have passed in Camelot, and it is now Ostara (the spring equinox). A couple of special events happen, but I shall say no more! Let us dive into chapter twenty.

Chapter 20 –That Special Night

True spring struck Camelot. Mild breezes and invigorating rains washed away the bitter cold. It was the season of mud, planting, and the Hunt of Ostara. Rion was displeased that he could not come along on the hunt with Percival, but King Arthur had said no one under the age of twelve could take part, as it was too dangerous. However, when the young boys of the castle nearly revolted, Arthur arranged for them to have an archery contest, followed by a feast.

The young girls then balked at the fact they would not be included, so Queen Guinevere arranged for field games for them – egg tossing, sack races, jumping contests, and a scavenger hunt. And afterward, the boys and girls would attend what was now being called the Children's Feast. Merlin, who despised hunting, was more than happy to supervise the young ones.

"I cannot believe a group of children almost usurped my power," King Arthur told Percival with a chuckle during their Ostara deer hunt.

"I think it's a fine idea, all the festivities back at the castle," replied Percival, shifting his bow and quiver on his shoulder, as the group of men marched through the woods. "It's inclusive."

Arthur chuckled. "Spoken like a true father. And speaking of fatherhood, the adoption should be finalized very soon. You'll have your hearing at court within the week."

"I'm glad to hear."

What wonderful news. The adoption would be complete well before Percival's wedding. Things could not be any better.

XXXX

The Ostara hunt had gone well; the men felled four deer, and the castle residents were enjoying flaky venison pies.

During supper, Rion shoveled warm pie into his mouth and spoke non-stop about the evening ahead. He and the other boys were to spend the night in the castle kennel along with Geoffrey of Monmouth. A dog was in labor, and it was expected she would deliver her puppies tonight. The castle Kennel Master had arranged it so they boys could sleep there that evening.

"We should witness birth," Rion proclaimed with his mouth full of food. "That's what Sir Geoffrey said. Seeing an animal give birth will help us understand that we should revere women, because they are the ones who bring forth life, and that is magical, in a way. Good magic, like the magic of nature. And I think he's right." He swallowed. "Some of the other boys say birth is disgusting and they don't want to look, but I do. And I'll help with the puppies, too, if I can."

Fleur peered at her partially eaten pie and said nothing. Percival and Fleur had never told Rion about her inability to bear children, but perhaps they would need to soon. The day might come when he asked about a new brother or sister. But in the meantime, Percival could see Fleur was hurting.

"Rion, perhaps we should discuss something else," said Percival, rubbing Fleur's back as he spoke.

Rion dropped his eating knife. "I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?"

Fleur looked up with a forced smile. "Not at all. I want to hear all about it."

"Oh, good." Rion still appeared uncertain. "Geoffrey said our parents could stop in for a time, if they wanted. Which means you can visit. Would you like to?"

"We'd love to," said Fleur.

XXXX

It was well after sunset when Percival and Fleur visited Rion in the kennel. Since they'd have the rest of the night alone – Rion was emphatic about the fact he would sleep on the hay in the stable with the dog – Percival and Fleur packed up warm blankets, a mix of nuts and dried fruits to snack on, and a wineskin full of strong cider. They had not had an evening alone and away from the castle in quite some time, and decided after their visit to Rion, this was the perfect opportunity to steal away to the creek for a while.

Percival rounded the corner with his arm around Fleur and chuckled at the scene before him. Sir Geoffrey sat directly in the hay in the large stable, but tucked away in a corner, taking notes and observing. Five other boys joked and wrestled in the opposite corner, paying no mind to the large, black deerhound lying on her side in her whelping box, panting. However, Rion and his best friend, Angan, sat near the dog's head.

Geoffrey looked up from his work. "Boys," he said sharply to the ones fooling around in the corner. "That's enough. If you're not here to observe, then off with you."

They seemed pleased to be released and rushed out of the stable before Geoffrey had the chance to change his mind, but they were polite enough to wish Fleur and Percival a good evening as they ran past.

Percival and Fleur stepped into the stable and approached the dog.

"Hello," said Rion. "Angan and I will stay."

Angan looked up at Percival with smiling green eyes and nodded his head.

"But you shouldn't get too close," cautioned Rion. "See how she's shaking? It hurts very much to give birth, and she might bite, even though she's normally a nice dog. Only if she chooses to come close can we touch her."

Geoffrey smiled at the boys. "You young men are doing a fine job. But it may be some time before she gives birth. It might not even be tonight."

"That's all right," said Rion. "I'll stay as long as it takes, even if it's days."

The dog hauled herself to the edge of the whelping box and whined to be stroked, so Rion and Angan petted her.

Rion had a wistful look in his eyes as he stroked the dog's scruffy fur. "You know, this is something only females can do, give birth. And Dee will never…" He sniffled and coughed. "Excuse me, I'll be right back." Rion rushed out of the kennel.

"He gets sad about his sister sometimes, and his mum and father," said Angan in a gentle voice. "But I try to help him and be his friend."

Percival liked this soft-spoken young man already. "Thank you, Angan. Fleur and I appreciate that."

"He'll be back soon," Angan assured them, shoving a tangled curl out of his eye. "And he is very excited about the adoption, Sir Percival. Rion told me he wants to call you 'Father' again, but he's waiting until the adoption day is over. That it'll make it special."

Percival had wondered why Rion had called him "Father" only that one time and not again since.

"And once you're married, he said he'll call Fleur 'Mum' then." Angan looked up with hope in his eyes. "Do you think I could come to your wedding?"

Fleur leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Of course. We would be honored."

Angan froze for a moment, then pressed his hand to his cheek. Percival knew the feeling of being mesmerized by Fleur's touch.

Rion strode back into the kennel as if nothing had happened, and took his position beside the whelping box again. "Sorry. Needed to use the privy."

Percival walked over to Geoffrey. "Are you sure this is all right with you? Staying with the boys all night?"

"Of course. These hands-on lessons are my favorite. And three fortnights from now, I'll take the boys on an herb-identifying and garnering trip. It'll last three nights, and include instruction on phases of the moon and astronomy. I hope you'll allow Rion to go."

"Oh, I must!" called out Rion.

"Don't fuss," said Percival. "You can go."

Geoffrey lowered his voice. "Rion is incredibly bright and intuitive. It is such a pleasure to teach him. I must say, he has been one of my favorite students ever." The old teacher glanced at Angan. "Angan is special, too. While he may be a little slower than some to pick up on new concepts, he possesses kindness and an innate wisdom I have rarely seen in a child so young. Those two are wonderful boys."

"It's an honor to call Rion my son," said Percival. "Or, he will be soon enough. And I look forward to getting to know his good friend better."

"It's getting late," said Geoffrey. "You and your betrothed should go off and have a nice night. It's been a long time since I had a pleasant evening with a beautiful woman…" He chuckled and his gaze seemed far away for a heartbeat, but then he cleared his throat and straightened. "A very long time. Enjoy yourself for me."

Percival looked over his shoulder at Fleur, who leaned down and chatted with the boys. Her long, light hair spilled over her shoulders, and her pale-brown cloak matched the color of her warm eyes. Gods, she was such a pure beauty and Percival was lucky to have her. When she ruffled Angan's hair, the torchlight reflected off her betrothal ring, and it struck him that she would be his forever. However, Beltane seemed to be a thousand years away, instead of three fortnights.

Percival thanked Geoffrey once again and said goodnight to Angan and Rion. He wrapped his arm around Fleur, took the basket from her, and they wandered out into a mild and clear spring night.

XXXX

"Percival, no!" giggled Fleur, slapping at his hands as he tickled her. "Stop, stop! Too much."

Percival laughed, too. They sat on a thick fur blanket at the far end of the creek, deep in the Darkling Woods, where they would not be disturbed. A full moon bathed the forest with gentle silver light, but Percival lit a small fire anyway, just to dispel the chill from an occasional crisp breeze. He could have done without it, but he wanted Fleur to be comfortable.

Percival took another long drink from the wineskin and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He shook the skin to assess how much was left. Goodness, had they already drunk half the cider? Judging by the pleasant fuzziness in head, yes, they had.

He handed over the skin and Fleur took a small sip. The cider moistened her lips and she licked them clean. Seeing this, the blood rushed to Percival's crotch. He should have drunk less, and he should have instructed Fleur to look less ravishing. Her cheeks appeared flushed and her lips were plumper and more kissable than ever.

Fleur stroked her thumb against Percival's jaw. "What are you thinking about?"

"How much I want to make love to you at this very moment." Oh, damn! Had he spoken those words aloud?

"Yes!" Fleur held up her arms in a victory gesture.

Percival could not stifle his loud laugh. "What?"

"Why do you think I suggested the strong cider? I hoped it would loosen you up."

She urged Percival down onto his back, lay on top of him, and kissed him. Their tongues stroked, teased, and tangled frantically for a good long while until Fleur came up for air. Percival was left breathless.

"Take me tonight, Percival. Please. I'm yours and I want this."

Percival, still on his back, peered up at the sky. Would there ever be another night as perfect as this one, clear and cool, starlight and stunning, with the kingdom's most beautiful, remarkable woman in his arms? A woman who loved and wanted him, just as he had always dreamed? He decided there would not be another night like this. This was their time.

He eased himself on top of her, then reached into the basket for another blanket to provide cover. "All right." He draped the soft them. "But before we start, I want you to know you are the most beautiful woman in the known lands and I love you. You are the woman I have dreamed of."

"And I love you, Percival. I offer myself to you on this night and every night for the rest of our lives. You are the only man I will ever love."

His nerves kicked up. He wanted this to be a pleasurable experience for Fleur, but she was a maiden, and he was worried it might not be. "I'm a little nervous," he said. "Are you?"

"Not at all. I'm completely relaxed and ready for you."

That eased Percival's tension and fueled his desire.

Percival did everything he could to ensure Fleur's comfort, and their joining turned out to be all he had dreamed of and more. Fleur was eager, loving, and passionate. Their bodies fit perfectly together, and Percival realized he had never really made love to a woman until now; their connection was that profound.

And during the final moments, right before the peak of passion, Fleur locked eyes with Percival and whispered his name like a fervent prayer. This was a moment he would never forget. When he drew his final breath, this image would fill his mind and bring him peace.

Afterward, there was no awkwardness between them, only relief and joy. They fell asleep by the creek for a time, only to wake and make love again. And again.

Before dawn, they packed up and made their way back to the castle so they could manage a little more rest before retrieving Rion in the morning. However, Percival insisted Fleur sleep in his bed while he slept in Rion's.

"Oh, Percival! That is so silly," Fleur insisted. "After all we've shared tonight."

"I know," he drawled. "But humor me. This is the one thing I want to save for our wedding night, the two of us sharing my bed, which will be _our_ bed then."

"All right. I suppose I can accommodate you. It is only three fortnights away."

They kissed, then went to their separate beds. Percival tried to conjure up feelings of guilt for making love to Fleur before their wedding, but he could not seem to. They were madly in love and everything about them seemed so right.

Percival fell asleep with a grin on his face.


	21. A Neat and Oderly Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to talk about the previous chapter for a moment, if that is all right with you.
> 
> Normally, I enjoy writing "M/MA"-rated fanfiction. For once, I had to show some restraint, because this is a "T"-rated story, but I found I really liked trying to write about the sexual connection between Fleur and Percival while still keeping it in the "T" realm. It was a challenge for me, but enjoyable. 
> 
> All right moving on to chapter 21... Rion has a bit of an altercation, meets a new friend, and makes a commitment. Meanwhile, there's news about Caron, Percival's former paramour, news that Fleur struggles with.

Chapter 21 – A Neat and Orderly Life

Though it was early morning and Percival had slept little, he woke with a lazy smile. Immediately, he rose from Rion's cramped bed and walked over to his own where Fleur lay, sleeping peacefully. She breathed a quiet sigh of contentment, and he wanted to stroke the flawless skin of her face, to press a kiss that beautiful mouth; however, he did not want to wake her.

He needed to check on Rion down in the kennels, but he also hated to leave Fleur's side. Now that they'd been joined in the most intimate of ways, the thought of leaving her presence for even a moment brought feelings of displeasure. Nevertheless, he would have to go on with his daily routines, though he yearned for her.

He washed and dressed silently, reflecting that last night, he'd had to talk himself out of joining Fleur in his bed so many times. It seemed as if _she_ was perfectly content to wait another three fortnights to wed, but the wait no longer seemed bearable to him. However, when he considered how happy she had sounded over the prospect of being a Beltane bride, carrying lush flowers, standing out in the sunshine in the garden among friends, he chuckled. To ensure her happiness, he would wait.

But before he left the chamber, he'd need to wipe the grin off his face. If he wandered about the castle radiating such joy, someone would figure out why he was so happy – that someone probably being Gwaine. And since he was not in the mood to answer countless invasive and inappropriate questions, he practiced frowning. He maintained that expression for a moment until his smile bled through.

_Never mind_ , he thought, padding from the room and quietly shutting the door. _Ebullience wins today. No point in hiding it._

On the way down to the kennel, he whistled a cheerful tune. However, the moment he stepped inside, Sir Geoffrey caught Percival by the shoulders.

"Before you get upset," said Geoffrey, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously, "there was a little incident early this morning."

The smile dropped off Percival's face and his heart raced. "Rion? Is he all right?"

"Yes, but he has a touch of a black eye. I wanted to warn you."

Percival breathed a deep sigh of relief. A black eye was nothing compared to what could have gone wrong. "What happened?"

"Well, when the puppies were born –"

"Percival!" called Rion's voice from the stable. "Come see the puppies! All six of them."

Percival left Geoffrey's side and stepped into the stable. Six black puppies, tiny versions of their mother, nursed contentedly. However, one pup, far smaller than the rest, scooted away from a teat and wiggled its way toward Rion. Rion gently picked up the tiny animal and cradled it against his chest.

Rion peered up at Percival with a huge grin on his face, and that was when Percival saw the child's eye. It was more than a black eye; half his face was swollen. It appeared as if he'd been kicked by a horse. Meanwhile, his friend Angan was fast asleep in a corner.

Percival dropped to a knee. "Rion, what happened?"

"Oh, it was all so exciting! The puppies were born right after you and Fleur left. It didn't take all that long, and I helped deliver the last puppy, this one. And when the –"

"Rion," interrupted Percival, "I'm talking about your face."

"Oh, _that_." Rion clutched the little puppy against his chest and narrowed his non-swollen eye. "I fought with the Kennel Master."

"Fought, as in, you threw punches? And why?"

Rion shook his head of shaggy hair. "I didn't hit anyone. You see, the Kennel Master tried to take away Banon, and –"

"Banon?"

"Yes, Banon. That's what I named her." Rion stroked the tiny pup's head, then held her out for examination. Banon had a shriveled left ear, and no left eye, just a flap of skin. And one of her front paws was missing toes. Percival had an idea where this story was headed.

"The Kennel Master took her right after birth," explained Rion, "and said he was sorry, but it would be kinder to send her to the Other World, because she could never be a proper hunting dog, and no one would want her."

"Still doesn't explain your face."

"I'm getting to that part." Rion placed Banon back near her mother. "When the Kennel Master grabbed Banon, I told him I would take her right after she was weaned. He said no, that she had problems and it would be kinder to ease her suffering now. And even if she lived, he said no one ever keeps big hunting dogs in the castle."

"Hunting dogs generally live in the kennel," said Percival gently. "Sometimes smaller dogs live inside…" Though Percival recalled one instance where a retired knight lived in his chamber with his aged dog, but that had been just the once.

Rion crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't care. Then I will go live with Banon in a cave and care of her myself! I mean it. I will not see her killed."

"Slow down, Rion. No one has to live in a cave. Besides, let's get back to your black eye."

"Well, when the Kennel Master wouldn't put her down, I jumped on his back."

Percival bit his lip so he would not laugh. He could picture Rion hanging off the strapping man's shoulders. However, when Percival considered the fact the Kennel Master had struck Rion, a dark coil of anger spiraled in his gut and all mirth vanished.

"Where is he now, Rion?"

"I'm here, Sir Percival."

Percival stood, then spun to face the Kennel Master, a man not much older than he, burly, but with kind brown eyes.

"Before you tear off my head, which you could no doubt do with ease, will you allow me to explain?" asked the man.

"I'm listening."

"What Rion said is true. I took the puppy away and was going to... hasten its passage to the Other World. For the most part, dogs with these types of malformations have other illnesses and problems and don't live long. And honestly, I have never seen a person actually care for a disfigured animal. I felt it would be kinder to let the puppy go now."

"That doesn't explain my ward's face."

"It was a complete accident. Rion's arms were fastened around my neck. I couldn't breathe, so I tried to reach back to loosen his grip, but I accidentally elbowed him right in the eye. I am truly sorry for that. Please believe me when I say I did not mean to hit him."

Percival had a good sense about when men were lying, and this Kennel Master, newer to the castle, seemed to be telling the truth.

"Fine," said Percival. "But this puppy is nursing well and seems healthy despite its deformities."

The Kennel Master gave a nod. "For now. But in my experience, that will change. It is possible the animal will live a good, long life, but the possibility is small."

Percival rubbed his hands over his face and looked over his shoulder at Rion, who stroked the puppy as she nursed. If Percival did not allow Rion to keep the dog, what kind of lesson was he teaching the boy? That it was acceptable to cast aside that which was not perfect? Then again, a man could not help all the lost and wounded creatures in the realm. And what if the Kennel Master was right and the puppy died soon? That would be another loss for Rion to live with. How much more could one child take?

"Sir, I didn't mean to choke you before," said Rion to the Kennel Master. "I just wanted to save Banon." Rion set his jaw in determination. "Percival, you don't have to care for me any longer. I'll live with Banon in the stable until she's weaned, and then she and I will go."

Percival let out a groan. Rion sure knew how to break a man's heart. "You're not going anywhere and neither is Banon." He faced the Kennel Master again. "Can you please keep the dog until she's weaned and then I'll take her?"

The Kennel master gave a small smile. "I can. The pup should be ready to go with you in seven or eight weeks."

"Really, Percival?" Rion shot to his feet and flung his arms around him. "I promise to take good care of her, and I'll come to the kennel every day to help until Banon's ready to come home."

"Rion, I need you to understand that this dog's life may be short." Percival held the child close. "You've suffered much after your family's death. Do you think this is a good idea?"

Rion let go and went back to the pile of nursing puppies. "Look at Banon. She has a loud cry and she's strong. I know she'll be all right. It doesn't matter that a few parts of her body are a little strange."

"But in a few months, she'll be larger than you," cautioned the Kennel Master. "Where will she sleep?"

"With me, of course," said Rion. "Right in my bed."

The Kennel Master laughed and patted Percival on the shoulder. "Good luck with this."

Percival started laughing, too. "My chambers will be filled with a son, a new wife, and a massive deerhound with one eye. I never imagined this."

Angan woke and scampered to the puppy pile. He stared at Rion's eye for a moment, and his mouth formed a large O. "Didn't look that bad last night…" Angan shook his head and turned his attention to the puppies.

In the meantime, Percival and the Kennel Master discussed all the dog would need. Rion and the Kennel Master traded apologies, and eventually, Percival coaxed Rion away from the puppies and back to their room. Percival took a quick glance around his sparse and neat chamber, figuring all the cleanliness would come to an end soon. However, a tidy existence no longer mattered. Love and family were far more important.

XXXX

The following day, the usual routine resumed. Percival and Fleur worked, and Rion went to his lessons, but immediately after lessons ended, instead of joining Percival for a meal, the child went to the kennels.

Since Fleur was occupied in the nursery, Percival ate hare stew in the Dining Hall with Gwaine. As Percival scraped the bowl clean, an excited gaggle of women burst into the Hall and announced that Caron was delivering her baby today. That was the way of things in the castle; births were always met with tremendous excitement.

"I have to see Fleur." Percival pushed away his bowl. "She'll feel awful about this."

"Why?" asked Gwaine. "She'll have her time. Give you lots of babies and whatnot."

Percival cringed at his slip. No one knew about Fleur's infertility. "Oh, well, you know how women are. Worried about things yet to come."

"I suppose."

Gwaine tucked back into his meal and Percival left for the nursery. He arrived to a peaceful scene. The older children played outside in the sunny garden with the other nursemaids, while Fleur sat in a rocking chair, the daylight hitting her face, accenting her light hair and warm eyes. She rocked back and forth with an infant in her arms, staring out the window. The corners of her mouth tilted down. She must have heard the news about Caron.

He moved closer. "Fleur?"

"Oh, hello, Percival. Thank you for visiting. I've missed you today."

"And I, you." Percival took a knee in front of her and caressed her hand. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Well enough. I heard about Caron."

"I thought you might have."

Fleur's chin wobbled, but she gave a forced smile. "What will never be hurts sometimes, but I have you and Rion, and the children here. That's all I need."

"Fleur, you and Rion are everything to me. Never doubt that."

Her smile widened, but the happiness did not reach her eyes.

Meanwhile, hand-in-hand, little Lila and Lew flew through the garden door.

"Sir Purple!" said Lila cheerfully. "You marry Fleur?"

"Yes, Fleur and I will marry soon."

Lila peered up at him. "Lew and me be at wedding?"

"Of course, you will."

"Sir Purple and Lady Purple," said Lila, and she and Lew giggled.

The children seemed to cheer up Fleur, until a ruckus in the corridor caught all their attention. It was that group of women from the Dining Hall who had announced Caron's delivery. One woman stuck her head in the nursery door.

"It's a boy!" the woman shouted, then disappeared.

Lila and Lew slipped back out into the garden, and Fleur, with a tremulous smile, continued rocking the baby.

"We have our boy, Rion." Percival raised to a crouch and kissed Fleur's hand. "And we have each other. We need nothing else."

Fleur nodded her head, yet a single tear slipped down her cheek. Percival hated witnessing her in such pain and wished he could bear it for her.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, chapter 22, and a big day for Percival and Rion. We'll hear a lot from their friends and loved ones, too.

Chapter 22 – It is Final

During the next fortnight, Percival did his best to reassure Fleur that he loved her and was thrilled she would be his wife. Sometimes, she asked if he was certain about this, and his answer was always the same: "Yes. My love for you will never fade. You bring meaning to my life."

Fleur seemed to accept this, albeit with some hesitation. Yet despite her concerns, she continued to open up to him sexually, and Percival could not keep his hands off her. They made love during stolen moments, sometimes in her bed, and once, in a storage closet. Their physical and emotional bond strengthened. It was a wonderful time in Percival's life.

On the eve of the new moon, exactly one month away from Beltane, King Arthur summoned Percival to the Council Chamber with a note: _The adoption is to be finalized today. Please arrive after the morning meal._

Percival kept the information to himself, and broke the fast with Rion as if nothing special was happening, even though he wanted to shout the good news from the top of the citadel. They finished their cooked oats and bacon, and Fleur arrived for the day.

"I have an announcement," said Percival. "There will be no work or lessons this morning. We have an important meeting with the king."

"But I'm starting my Greek lessons today," said Rion. "I have to go."

"No lessons today. It's your adoption day."

Rion's eye widened. "It-it is? Truly?"

"Yes, and we're needed in the Council Chamber forthwith."

The entire way there, Rion asked question after question of Fleur and Percival about what to expect, what he should say, and who would be there. Percival was not sure of the answers, so he told the boy they would see soon enough. However, Percival did not fault Rion for his excitement.

They entered the long chamber, and the round table was already crowded with people. The king and queen were there, along with Gwaine, Leon, Merlin, Gaius, Geoffrey, numerous knights, several nursemaids, and a good number of courtiers.

Others lined the room – villagers, the tavern owner, merchants, and most of Rion's friends and their families. The ladies of the brothel were also there. They had been a part of this, too; they offered Idele help and supported Rion while he grieved.

Percival, Fleur, and Rion took seats at the table opposite from Arthur and Guinevere. People chatted and smiled, so Percival took the opportunity to close his eyes and thank Idele once again.

_Idele, your son is still your son, I promise you. I think of Rion as having two fathers and mothers now. Fleur and I will never replace you and your husband; we simply want to offer him the love and care he deserves. Thank you for this gift, Idele, and give little Dee my blessing. I miss her._

"Attention, all." Arthur tapped his hand against the table. "We are here to finalize Sir Percival's adoption of Rion. I had a herald make announcements throughout Camelot about these proceedings, and no family members have claimed kinship to Rion, nor is anyone contesting this matter.

"Further, Percival completed all the required documents proving he has the resources to care for Rion, and there were many of those documents to fill out." The king winked at Percival. "Fifteen individuals offered written statements attesting to Percival's upstanding character, although I needed only three statements, and now that the waiting period is over, Rion is officially Sir Percival's son. Does anyone wish to speak on this matter?"

Gwaine went to his feet. "I do. Even though I was one of the many who offered written statements, I would like to say a few words." He coughed into his hand, as if preparing for a lengthy speech. "Today, we'll probably hear lots about how Rion is a lucky boy to be adopted by a knight, how wonderful and magnanimous Percival is, and so on. Now, I'm not disputing any of that, because the man is my best mate, but I want to talk about how lucky Percival is to have Rion as a son."

_Why, oh why is Gwaine doing this?_ _Couldn't he make lewd jokes instead?_ thought Percival. _I will never be able to contain my emotion._

"It was last summer when Rion came charging onto the castle training field demanding sword lessons," said Gwaine, and people chuckled. "From that day forward, there was a light of joy in Percival's eyes that I had never seen before. As most of you know, Percival lost his family when he was about Rion's age, and life has not been easy for my large friend.

"From the day Rion rushed onto the training field, Percival was blessed: blessed with the affection of a young boy who looked up to him, and eventually, blessed with the love of a wonderful woman. I firmly believe that Rion brought the goodness and joy into Percival's life that had been missing for far too long.

"Rion brings great happiness to us all. He has been a wonderful addition to the castle; ask anyone. Geoffrey adores him, his friends adore him, and so do I. On this day, I say we honor Rion, who is officially part of our family now."

People murmured in agreement. Percival glanced at Rion, and the boy held back tears. He dropped his arm around the Rion's shoulder and kissed the top of his head.

Fleur stood next. "I would also like to say something. I offered a written statement, too, but there's more I wish to say."

Arthur nodded, encouraging her to continue, and Percival's heart soared. Fleur was shy; speaking in front of groups terrified her. Yet there she stood bravely, facing her fears. She was a woman like no other.

"I have never known a man like Percival," she said, her eyes trained on the table. "So many people turn their backs on the young, the hurting, those in need. But not Percival. Not only does he offer care, he embraces their differences and welcomes them into his home and heart. And he has no idea how special he is."

Percival had never viewed himself as special in any way, and to hear the woman he loved speak such kind words brought him to the edge of tears. How could a man be any luckier? He had a woman and son who adored him, and he cherished them in return. Percival would not trade places with King Arthur for anything; his own life was perfect as it was.

"As most of you know," Fleur continued, "Percival and I are to be married in two fortnights. And besides marrying an incredible man, I am now also gaining a wise, kind, wonderful son. Rion is just as special as his father."

She flashed Percival and Rion a huge smile, then took her seat.

"And I would also like to point out that you will gain a dog, too," said Rion, and the room erupted into gales of laughter.

Rion shrugged his shoulders. "What did I say?"

"Nothing wrong," Percival assured the boy through his tears of hope and elation. "That was perfect."

Once the laughter faded, more people stood and made statements attesting to Percival's fine character, and offered words of support and praise. The accolades seemed to go on for ages – Merlin's soliloquy was particularly heartfelt – and Percival did not know how much more he could take. He had never felt so loved in his life.

During the many speeches, Gwaine must have absconded from the room, because he returned with several servants, and they bore trays piled with fruit tarts and stacks of honey cakes covered in thick cream. Others brought in pitchers of drinks.

"Gwaine, what have you done?" asked Percival.

"It's a time to celebrate!" announced Gwaine, and the attendees shouted their approval.

Rion rose. "May I say one last thing?"

"Of course. It's your day," said King Arthur.

Rion bowed his head. "I must confess something. On that day when I turned up at the castle training field last summer and asked Sir Percival for sword lessons, I might have fibbed a little.

"After Percival saved me from the Dorocha, he never exactly said he would train me to be a warrior, and I sort of let him believe that's what he'd said. He said I could visit him, and he would show me some sword fighting stances, but that was it. I just… I admired him and wanted to be just like him. I still do. Does that change anything?"

Rion trembled, appearing as if he truly believed this adoption could be undone by his "confession."

"Rion?" Percival took the child by the shoulders and turned the boy to face him. "I always knew I never said that. And it doesn't matter. You're my son now and nothing can sever that bond."

Rion's eyes welled up with tears. "All right. Father."

Percival leapt up from his seat and he and Rion embraced. Their tears fell as they clung to one another.

"If there is nothing further," said King Arthur, "by the power vested in me by the Kingdom of Camelot, I call this session to a close and officially proclaim Rion to be Percival's son. So must it be.

"And now, let us enjoy these delicious looking treats. I am in the mood for a fine honey cake."

The atmosphere turned festive. Angan's father withdrew a lute from his satchel and played a cheerful tune while everyone dug into their treats. Rion had one small honey cake, and that was it.

"Rion?" Percival handed him another honey cake. "This is a special treat. On this day, it's perfectly fine to indulge in sweets."

"What about my training? Too many sweets are not good. You said so."

Percival popped a large honey cake into his mouth, grinned and chewed. "Once a month, you can eat extra sweets. It won't hurt."

It seemed as if everyone in the room took a turn congratulating Percival and Rion. In a lighthearted moment, Gwaine hoisted Rion up onto his shoulders and announced to all that the boy was his nephew, and as such, would be the finest knight Camelot had ever seen.

"And I will teach him how to hold his ale!" shouted Gwaine above the chatter, and Percival groaned.

"I don't need you to teach me how to do that," said Rion. "I already know how; you hold it in a mug. Right?"

Gwaine laughed so hard he wheezed, and Fleur came along and helped Rion down.

"Yes, Rion, you are right," she said, trying not to laugh.

Clearly missing the humor, Rion shrugged and took a sip of cider. He swallowed, then gasped. Covering his mouth, he turned to Percival. "My teeth," he mumbled through this fingers.

"What about them? Does one hurt?"

"No, I…" Rion's words trailed off and he pulled back his lips, revealing both his front teeth were gone. "They were loose. I-I swallowed them."

Percival hugged his son. "That means you're growing up. That's good."

Rion sniffled. "But… I swallowed them."

"You don't need 'em!" said Gwaine. "Anyway, it's good luck to swallow your front baby teeth. I think it means you're stout of heart."

"Oh, in that case…" Rion flashed his new, semi-toothless grin. He made his way around the room showing off his new gap, and people offered further congratulations.

"Thank you for stepping in," said Percival, leaning close to Gwaine.

"Please, that's what Uncle Gwaine is for."

"You like that title, don't you?"

"I sure do."

XXXX

"Father? Can you read me the story about the dragon again?"

It well past Rion's bedtime; however, it was a special day, so Percival indulged his son. Percival still had a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact he was truly a father and Rion was his child. He'd had months to get used to the notion, but now that the adoption was official, Percival could not seem to shake off the wonder that it had _actually_ happened.

"All right. Once more." Percival flipped to the front page of the storybook as Rion lay in bed clutching both his red and white stuffed dragons. "In a land of myth, and a time of magic…"

Rion was asleep by the end of the first paragraph.

Percival, with gentle hands, adjusted Rion's blanket, then blew out the bedside candle. He wanted to head to bed, too. Fleur had insisted Percival and Rion have their bonding time on this special night, so he had not seen her since supper. As he prepared for bed, he thought about Beltane, one month away, when she would sleep in his chamber and his bed every night. She would be his wife and Rion's mother.

Joyful, he eased into bed and fell fast asleep.

However, close to dawn, Rion woke up due to a night terror. He had not experienced one of those in a while, at least not one this severe, with screaming and disorientation. Percival tossed back his blanket and was at Rion's bedside in an instant.

"It's all right, Rion. I'm here." He sat on the bed and pulled Rion close. "I'm here."

"Father, father," wept Rion, trembling.

Percival cried, too. He and Rion cried for all they had lost and all they had gained.


	23. An Unpleasant First

Chapter 23 – An Unpleasant First

Rion calmed from his night terror easily, and he and Percival went back to sleep. When morning arrived, Rion shot out of bed with a grin, full of his typical energy. He had no memory of his tears and screaming the previous night, which was just as well; the boy deserved peace after all the heartache he had weathered.

Since Percival and Rion woke early, they broke the fast in the Dining Hall instead of their quarters. Rion shoveled warm fennel porridge into his mouth, then announced he was off to see his puppy before lessons. He rushed away from the table, calling, "Goodbye, Father," over his shoulder as he ran.

"Have a good day," Percival replied, but Rion was already gone.

Fleur entered the Dining Hall and took a seat on the bench next to Percival. Her usual morning smile was missing.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked.

"You haven't heard? Caron's husband died early this morning. He collapsed from his horse and never moved again."

"I see. That's unfortunate."

It _was_ unfortunate the man passed, but Caron's pain was not Percival's concern. In fact, he'd prefer to never think of Caron or her circumstances again. All he wanted to focus on was Rion, Fleur, and their upcoming wedding.

"I mean to see her," said Fleur.

Percival stiffened and dropped his spoon into his bowl with a clatter. "What? Why? No, Fleur, you shouldn't. She won't be kind to you. Trust me. Keep your distance."

"I can't do that. Now that her husband's gone, she'll need help from us in the nursery. I need to talk to Caron and get to know her baby."

"Well…well… Let one of the other nursemaids do it!" he all but shouted. He was not cross with Fleur, but he did not want the woman he loved within arm's reach of Caron. Even though Caron had kept her distance of late, Percival expected her to start conniving again any time.

In the past, Fleur might have drawn back, but this morning, she straightened and met Percival's eye. "I am sorry if this doesn't please you, but I am going. And I shall pass along your condolences."

She was already on her feet and marching away. Percival did not have the chance to apologize. Leave it up to Caron to cause his and Fleur's first fight. Caron was an expert at provoking discord, even when she was not trying.

XXXX

Percival had guard duties all day until supper, and spent most of his time marching back and forth on the castle wall-walk, peering into the distance with a scowl on his face. Fortunately, he guarded with Leon, who understood Percival's need for quiet today. If Gwaine had been assigned to the wall-walk, his chatter and questions might have driven Percival mad.

For hours, Percival fretted, concerned that Fleur was _really_ angry at him. Perhaps she wouldn't forgive his sharpness earlier. Maybe she wanted to end their betrothal. After ages of ruminating and getting so worked up his stomach hurt, the moment the relief guards turned up, Percival charged back to his chamber without so much as acknowledging his fellow knights.

He burst inside, prepared to drop to his knees and ask for forgiveness, but nothing seemed amiss. In fact, Fleur had a lovely supper waiting on the table – roast pigeon and mashed parsnips dotted with thick dollops of butter.

"Good, you're here, Father," said Rion, holding out a chair. "Sit, sit! I'm starving."

"Right. So am I."

Percival took a seat and ate his meal, despite his roiling stomach. Fleur smiled at him during supper and made pleasant conversation, but something seemed to be bothering her. She was probably still upset with him and waiting to give him a piece of her mind, or worse. He needed to speak to her, soon, and alone.

The moment everyone finished eating, Rion hopped up from his seat and grabbed the plates, bowls, and utensils. He tossed them onto the wooden tray. "I'll bring this down to the kitchens on my way to see Banon," he said. "She's getting so big! See you before sunset."

Percival needed to work on having Rion ask for permission before running off, but that battle would be for another night. For now, Percival braced himself for another fight with Fleur, one he hoped did not end with her tossing her betrothal ring in his face.

"Fleur…"

"Percival…" they said at once.

He crossed to the other side of the dining table, dropped to a knee, and took her hands. "What is it, love?"

"I should have listened to you earlier." Her voice quavered. "You were right. Caron told me to leave. Very forcefully."

"I'm sorry, Fleur. What else did she say?"

Fleur stared out the chamber window. "She said… She was just quite mean. I don't recall her exact words."

Percival had a feeling Fleur recalled every detail, but did not want to discuss it. He would not press her.

"You didn't deserve to be treated like that." He cradled her face in his hands. "That's how Caron is when she's upset; she lashes out. But you are nothing but kind and wonderful. And please forgive me for being harsh earlier. I was only worried about you and what might happen when you called on Caron, but I still should have listened to what you had to say."

"And I should have listened to you and stayed away. All is forgiven, Percival."

He could not suppress his deep sigh of relief. Couples fought; it happened. He and Fleur had survived their first argument, and they would survive others, too.

XXXX

A week passed, which meant Beltane was a mere three weeks away. In the meantime, Rion had experienced a growth spurt. His trousers were too short, and it seemed as if he had grown a head taller almost overnight. His body appeared to be building actual muscle now. The little-boy roundness of his face disappeared, revealing high cheekbones and a strong jawline. He was at the very start of leaving childhood behind, that challenging journey of moving from innocence to maturity. Soon enough, Rion would be a teenager, and then a man. It would all happen in the blink of an eye.

Would Rion become a knight, as he often said he wanted? While Percival told Rion he could be anything he wanted, in Percival's dreams, he would be present at Rion's knighting ceremony. It was customary for a father to hand over his personal sword when his son was knighted, as a way of honoring the past and celebrating the future. Percival often imagined having the sword blade restored to perfection, and then polishing the metal to a glossy sheen before presenting it to his newly knighted son.

Percival was getting ahead of himself. Rion was going on eight years, and academically adept. Endless opportunities were available to the boy, and he might opt to be a scribe, a tutor, or perhaps a diplomat, a man who negotiated important political deals. The more Percival considered it, _any_ of those jobs sounded better than being a knight, because they offered less risk of losing one's head. Still, a little part of him held onto the dream Rion might follow in his footsteps.

After completing his early-morning duties, on his way to see Fleur, Percival mused about how she made his life easier and more comfortable. She was the one to deal with obtaining new clothes for Rion, and she prepared all of their meals when they did not eat in the Dining Hall; she even mended Percival's socks. Fleur kept everything in Percival's life organized and running smoothly. And she had taken care of all the details for their upcoming nuptials, from securing Geoffrey of Monmouth to act as officiant that day to handling the menu for the wedding feast. All Percival had to do was turn up bathed, dressed, and shaved. Percival tried to think of how he had made Fleur's life easier, but he could not come up with anything. All he could offer was his love and promise to care for her always. He hoped that was enough.

Striding down the hallway, Percival further considered that Fleur was no longer shy with him. She loved him with her whole heart, a dream Percival had never believed would come true. And while she made love with enthusiasm – which he both craved and adored – it was the little things she did that proved her affection for him. She gazed at him like she could never get enough, and after he shaved, she'd rub her knuckles gently against his jaw. It was hard to recall a time when she feared a simple kiss and flinched when he moved too close.

Now in front of her chamber, he raised his fist to knock, but Fleur had already tossed open the door. She pulled him in by the front of his tunic and shoved him toward her bed while simultaneously kicking the door closed. She stripped off his clothes and had him down on his back before he had time to say hello. They'd been having make-up sex for an entire week since their argument, but he was not about to complain about loads of passionate sex, that was for sure.

Yet even with the passion, they still had their rules. He would not have her in his bed until they were married, and she would wear her light shift every time they made love. She promised on their wedding night, she would bare herself to him, and Percival planned to hold her to that. These rules might have seemed silly to others, but they appreciated having something to look forward to.

After an abrupt – yet enthusiastic – joining, Percival lay back, sweaty, trying to catch his breath. His once-shy Fleur had blossomed in so many ways.

Meanwhile, Fleur adjusted her shift and rose from bed. "I want to show you something."

From the tiny wardrobe, she removed a cream-colored dress, a simple frock, shapeless, made of the same coarse material a peasant might wear. She shook it out and held it up.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's my wedding dress. Do you like it?"

Percival took a long pause before answering. He was no expert in women's fashion, but he had attended a few weddings, and the dresses were much more ornate and less… stiff.

"Well," said Percival, "I'm a man, and know little about dresses, but it seems a sort of plain. But you'll look beautiful no matter what you wear," he added quickly. "Do you like it? That's what matters."

Fleur's mouth curved into a frown. "I think it's nice, but… I don't feel comfortable wasting money on a costly dress that will be worn only once."

"Wait, you used your own money to pay for that, didn't you? Haven't I told you time and time again that there's no more 'your' money and 'my' money? It's ours. And I want you to have a dress that makes you feel beautiful and special on our wedding day."

Still frowning, Fleur fingered the stiff fabric. "I don't know. It seems indulgent."

"We don't know what the future holds, do we? We may be beggars living in a cave one day," he said with a chuckle. "But for now, there's plenty of money to buy you a fine dress. And that's what I want. For you."

Percival wrapped the bed sheet around his waist and stood. He plucked the dress from her hand, and it felt coarser than a sanding rock. He could not picture Fleur wearing something that would make her itch all day long. "Sell this dress," he told her gently. "I'll set up a time for you to see Queen Guinevere and she'll help you get a proper wedding dress. She's done it for other knights' wives."

"The queen!" Fleur's eyes widened. "No, she's a royal, busy with important matters. That's silly."

"Queen Guinevere is a good friend and she would love to help. Since she was a servant once, she considers herself above no one."

After much gentle cajoling, Fleur agreed to meet with Guinevere.

Several days later, Fleur turned up with a beautiful dress made of an airy, pale blue material. Tiny silver embroidered flowers ran down the back. From what Percival saw, the dress appeared fitted at the top, and it flowed out into a full, gauzy skirt. It was cinched by a silver girdle belt accented with a few clear crystals.

"That is beautiful." Percival admired the dress as Fleur carefully draped it over the bar in her wardrobe. "And no less than you deserve."

"The queen refused to discuss cost. I can only imagine how much you paid."

Percival pulled her by the waist towards him. "When will you learn I would do anything for you?"

He did not wait for an answer. Instead, he pressed a long kiss to her lips.


	24. A Prayer for the Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All right, I must confess, the story shifts a bit in tone for the next several chapters, and there will be pain, drama, and angst.

Chapter 24 – A Prayer for the Beloved

It was not every day that a knight wed, and with Percival and Fleur's wedding just over a fortnight away, excitement flowed through the castle. Although the guest list for the garden wedding stood at a mere fifty – most knights' weddings had hundreds of attendees – there was much talk about how people would watch the ceremony from windows above.

Further, Percival and Fleur had come to terms with the fact that there was no stopping people from attending the wedding feast afterward – they had been kidding themselves thinking they might control how many people turned up in the Dining Hall. Thus, they planned for two-hundred-and-fifty attendees, and hoped for the best.

It was after supper time, and Percival, Fleur, and Rion took an evening walk around the castle grounds. Spring rain had been scarce, for a change, so most castle residents took every opportunity available to enjoy the dry and mild outdoors. Children ran around with their friends, tossing balls and playing with hoops on the field, while parents and family members strolled. Rion walked close to Percival and Fleur instead of rushing off with his friend Angan.

As Percival and Fleur meandered, arm in arm, Fleur slowed down and coughed.

"I've had such a tickle in my throat all day," she said. "Nothing seems to help."

"Me, too," said Rion.

Percival glanced from his betrothed to his son. "Oh? Perhaps it's the spring flowers. They make some people cough and sneeze."

Fleur nodded, coughing. "Might be."

Percival wrapped one arm around Fleur and with his free hand, took Rion by the shoulder. "Still, I don't like the sound of your cough. Let's see Gaius."

He encouraged Fleur and Rion to move faster. However, by the time they made it to the third stair landing inside the castle, Fleur's complexion turned a shade of gray-green. Rion also appeared wan.

"I don't… I don't think I can make it," said Fleur, swooning against Percival's chest.

He bent down and pressed his lips to the top of her head. Gods, even her hair radiated heat. Trying to repress his panic, Percival called over Rion, who lagged behind. And sure enough, Rion's skin was hot to the touch, too.

With a rattling cough, Fleur passed out in Percival's arms, and he lost all composure.

"Someone! Help!" he bellowed, easing her to the ground.

Despite his fever, Rion ran for the infirmary; however, he was stopped in the corridor by none other than Gaius, who must have heard the shouts. Gwaine and Leon also rushed to their aid.

"What's happening here?" asked Gaius, taking a seat on the floor and lifting Fleur's eyelids.

"She wasn't feeling well," explained Percival in a voice that sounded far away. "She said she had a cough, and so does Rion."

Already, Fleur's face glistened with sweat, as did Rion's brow. Didn't an inflammation of the lungs start like this, with coughing, weakness, and sweating? That was how Rion's mother had died. Terror gripped Percival's heart, squeezing, spreading pain across his chest, making it difficult to breathe. His vision dimmed, and Percival did everything he could to not vomit.

"I've got Rion," said a muffled voice that sounded something like Gwaine's.

As Percival's hands shook and turned to ice, Gaius gave orders about bringing Fleur and Rion to Percival's chamber and making them comfortable. Leon lifted Fleur from Percival's arms and carried her away. Percival wanted to shout at him to stop, but the terror-vice stealing his breath would not allow him to speak. Fleur and Rion needed him, yet there he sat on the flagstone floor, trembling and useless.

"Come on, big man." Someone lifted Percival under the arms. "Let's take care of your son and woman."

Percival, mute, stumbled along and allowed Gwaine to guide him. Rion was still able to walk, for which Percival was grateful. However, when they reached the bedchamber, Rion sagged against the wall, and Percival forced himself into action. His son needed him. His betrothed needed him. Later, in a quiet moment, he would go to bits.

Percival lifted Rion and settled him into bed right next to Fleur.

Gaius elbowed Percival out of the way and started to examine his patients. "All of you, I need fresh water, linen, and my medicine bag from the infirmary. And please get the tincture bottles marked 'feverfoil' and 'horseradish.' I'll also need fresh mint and a pot of lard." He glanced over his shoulder at Percival. "You must go, too. I need a few moments alone with your family."

"What about Merlin?" Percival blurted out without thinking. "Where's he? He can help."

"Why do you say that?" Gaius continued his work, but stiffened.

"Because… because he's a good healer. A good apprentice."

"I'm afraid you're stuck with my decades of experience, Percival," was Gaius's retort. "Merlin is traveling with Arthur to the village of Abertawe in the south."

With that information, the remaining thread of Percival's composure snapped. "Why is Merlin never around when you need him?" he shouted so loudly Fleur and Rion started.

Gaius spun on his heel to face Percival. "Percival, really!"

"Gaius, what is wrong with them?" Percival was tired of being polite. He was not moving until Gaius provided answers about Fleur and Rion.

The old physician, who stood two heads shorter than Percival, marched right up to him. "If you would leave me in peace for a moment and do as I asked, I will be able to tell you more." Gaius's stern glare softened. "I know you love them, but I need a little time. Please go with the men and retrieve what I need."

"All right." Percival looked away, shamefaced. Gaius was trying to help, and he was Fleur and Rion's only hope.

Percival allowed Gwaine and Leon to guide him from the room. The three of them retrieved buckets of fresh water, then collected the items Gaius had requested from the infirmary. Percival scowled, annoyed with how slowly everyone moved. How difficult was it to pick up the pace and move with purpose?

Finally, Percival and his friends returned to his quarters, and Fleur was awake, but not alert. Sweat dampened the front of her dress, and she writhed in the bed, mumbling, "Don't leave me." Rion remained quiet, but reached out and took her hand.

"Good, you're back," said Gaius, swiping his medicine bag and tinctures from Percival. "I will administer the medicine whilst the three of you mash up two handfuls of mint leaves. Mix them up in lard and place the mixture in a long linen strip. A mint poultice will help reduce their fevers, as will the feverfoil drops. The horseradish elixir will help with the cough."

Percival ignored Gaius's instructions while Gwaine and Leon mashed mint with a mortar and pestle. "Tell me what's wrong. Is it an inflammation of the lungs?"

"No. It is winter fever, and despite its name, people can fall ill with it during any season. I've seen several cases today. Normally, it claims only the very young and the infirm," said Gaius. "Though Rion's case seems milder than Fleur's. And she is also struggling with an excess of phlegm."

"Are they going to make it, Gaius? That's all I want to know."

"I believe so."

However, Gaius would not meet Percival's eye.

XXXX

Winter fever spread through the castle with speed, and Gaius had to tend to others in need. Leon and Gwaine wanted to remain in Percival's chamber and help, but Percival asked them to leave. Should the unthinkable happen, should Fleur and Rion die, Percival wanted these last hours or days alone with them.

Any time that thought came to his mind, that his betrothed and son might not make it, he pushed aside the notion and instead lavished attention on them. He bathed them with cool cloths, fed them medicine, and changed their mint chest poultices constantly. The gods would not be cruel enough to take Percival's parents and sister AND Rion and Fleur… would they?

Once dawn’s grayish first light peeked through the window coverings, Rion’s cough eased and his skin felt cooler, though not by much. Although a faint touch of color returned to his face, Fleur remained white as a ghost and no amount of fluid seemed to moisten her chapped lips. And these stupid herbs and elixirs. Nothing worked! Fleur’s coughs rattled her frame, and it pained Percival to watch. 

He spent the morning boiling water, washing linens, making new poultices, and wiping sweaty brows. Before midday, Rion's fever broke, and he sat up, weak, but lucid.

"Father… What happened?"

Percival took a seat on the bed. "You and Fleur were very ill. Winter fever. But you're getting better."

Rion glanced at Fleur. "Is she?"

"I-I don't know yet."

Rion pulled off his blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I feel good now. I'll tend to her." He stood, but his legs wobbled. Percival eased the boy right back into bed.

"Nonsense. It'll be days or more before you're strong enough to be up and about. You just… keep Fleur company."

Rion nodded and was asleep once again before his head hit the pillow.

Percival moved to the other side of the bed. He resumed bathing Fleur with wet cloths. He would not stop tending to her until he collapsed or her condition improved, whichever came first.

"Percival," Fleur muttered, twisting beneath the covers. "She said… she said…"

He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. "Shhh, Fleur, relax. I'm here. It's going to be all right."

"You're my husband?" she mumbled, her eyes glassy with fever and confusion.

"I will be very soon."

"Rion's my son?"

"Of course."

That seemed to settle her.

Before midday, Percival helped Rion to the privy – the boy insisted he did not want to use the chamber pot. When Percival and Rion returned to their room, Fleur lay soaked in her own urine, and Percival cursed an oath under his breath. Why had he not thought about the fact she needed to use the pot and was too confused by her fever to ask for help?

Rion wobbled, and Percival guided him into a seat. Percival ran his fingers through his hair. Yes, he and Fleur had made love often enough, but changing her out of urine-soaked clothing was a different matter. He did not mind doing it, not at all, but he knew Fleur – it would humiliate her to know he had seen her in such a state. Well, Percival would worry about that another time. For the moment, Fleur needed to be changed.

Taking a deep breath, Percival walked to the door, planning to collect fresh clothes from Fleur's room. Rion would be fine alone for a few moments. Before Percival's fingers touched the iron handle, the door flew open and he had to jump back so he was not struck. Anaed from the brothel marched right in, followed by Gwaine. It almost amused Percival how much different she looked when dressed in a modest dark-blue gown and with her long hair pinned into a tight bun. She was still attractive, but no one would have otherwise guessed her profession based on her current appearance.

Briskly, Anaed walked to the bedside and clucked her tongue. "Get out, Percival."

"What?" asked Percival, shaking his head.

With kindness in her eyes, Anaed said, "I will change Fleur and tend to her while Gwaine takes care of Rion. You need fresh air and a meal. When was the last time you ate?"

He thought hard. Yesterday? "I had a biscuit this morning," he lied.

Anaed rolled her eyes. "Right. A fresh biscuit from thin air. Unlikely." She took a step toward him and smiled, empathy apparent in her dark brown eyes. "Percival, let me help. Gwaine told me about what happened the last time you overworked yourself after Rion's mother's death. You need to care for yourself so you can be there for others. Can't you see how important that is? Now off with you. Eat and get some fresh air. We'll see you after the midday meal."

She all but shoved him out the door, and Percival did not have time to protest or chastise Gwaine for sharing too many secrets with Anaed. However, once Percival stood out in the corridor and breathed in the sweet, spring air rushing in through the windows, he recognized what Anaed said had merit. He would take a break, eat, and go for a brisk walk, thereby rejuvenating himself.

His first stop was the kitchens. He did not want to sit down in the Dining Hall and be forced to answer endless questions about his family's health, so instead, he figured he'd sneak in, swipe a snack, and eat outside while he walked. Yet the moment he pushed open the double doors to the kitchen, Cook all but flung herself at him.

"Oh, dear Sir Percival! Is your family all right?"

Percival just stared. This was so out of character for the terse, abrupt Cook to express concern. "Well, Rion is a little better, but Fleur's having a rough time."

Cook reached under the counter and shoved a bulging cloth sack into Percival's hands. "There's some food in there I set aside for you. Simple fare: bread, honey butter, goat jerky, apples, and nuts."

"Ah… thank you?"

Stunned, Percival exited the kitchen and wandered to the castle's western exit. He munched on an apple as he clambered down the stone stairs. It was a stunning spring day with bright blue skies and warmth that penetrated the bones. Fleur would love this weather, and it was probably the type of day she had envisioned for their wedding.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, then walked in the shadow of the castle. With each step, his hope diminished. There was no reason to be happy. Fleur was not one whit better, and, if anything, her condition had worsened. Every time she hacked, Percival winced. What if their wedding day never arrived? Percival hurried to a quiet spot and leaned up against the castle wall. All the stress of the last few days boiled up inside him, and he slid down into the grass. A rush of nausea climbed into the back of his throat and he spit out his mouthful of apple, retching. He would not survive if Fleur did not make it. She was a part of him now. Those love poems about indissoluble bonds and connected souls were all true. Overwhelmed, Percival decided there was nothing left to do but pray. Lowering his head, he closed his eyes and clasped his hands together in front of his chest. 

_Gods and goddesses… What does one say at times like these? I was never really taught how to pray, so I'll speak honestly. I am begging you to cure Fleur. Rion, my boy, is doing well, and for that I am so grateful. But can you please heal Fleur, too? I would give you anything you wanted, anything you asked for to make it so._

_I have experienced enough grief, gods, as has Rion, don't you think? I beg you for help and assure you if you allow Fleur to live, I will make it my life's mission to care for my family and shower them with love. I'll make my mum, father, and sister proud, as well as all of you gods and goddesses. Please give me this chance. Please. I am begging you with all that I have and all that I am._


	25. Something to Fight for

Chapter 25 – Something to Fight For

After begging the gods and goddesses for help, Percival returned to his chamber to find Rion napping in his own bed while Fleur had been changed into a clean nightdress and was resting comfortably. The room smelled better, like fresh herbs instead of sickness, and the window now stood open, allowing a sweet breeze to blow in. Apparently, Anaed and Gwaine had been busy cleaning, organizing, and caring. If anyone ever had a negative word to say about the women of the brothel, speak about their "loose morals," Percival would refute that statement. These women, and especially Anaed, had been nothing but supportive and wonderful. They did not judge, they did not complain, they just stepped in and helped. More people should be like them.

"Did you eat?" asked Anaed kindly, as Percival closed the chamber door.

He looked down at the cloth sack in his grip. "I couldn't eat much. My stomach's not right."

"Oh, no! Are you sickening?" Anaed pressed her hand against his forehead.

"No, it's not that. I'm just scared half to death that I'll lose Fleur."

Gwaine rose from the chair next to Rion's bed and crossed to Percival's side. "Let us stay with you until night time. I think you could use the company and help."

"And I could use Uncle Gwaine's stories," said Rion, having woken. "He's a great storyteller. I really like the ones about the battles, especially when the evil knights get their heads cut off…"

"Ah, well, yes!" Gwaine cut across and cleared his throat. "Rion, Rion, such an imagination you have!"

Percival chuckled and clapped Gwaine on the back. "It's all right, Gwaine. But if you could incorporate less decapitation into the stories, I would appreciate it."

"Then more dragons?" asked Rion, hopeful.

"FLOCKS of dragons," said Gwaine, "breathing fire and tearing through the Lower Town as they… Breathing fire is all."

Percival, Gwaine, and Anaed spent the afternoon and evening caring for the patients and engaged in idle banter. After sundown, Percival asked his friends for time alone with his family, and they obliged, but with the reminder they would be but a few steps away in Gwaine's chambers.

"There's a mouse infestation at the brothel, so Anaed is staying with me for a few days," said Gwaine, after she had made her way to his room. "And she wants to talk to me about a project she's working on. And no, she is staying with me as a friend, nothing more, so don't get all –"

Percival held up his hand. "All I was going to say is thank you. And besides, Anaed is too good for you."

Gwaine and Percival got into a playful shoving match right outside the door, after which Percival returned to Fleur's bedside. Her eyes fluttered open.

"You're still here?" she said.

"Where else would I be?"

She gazed into his eyes. "I am so afraid I'll lose you."

"That will never happen, not until death parts us or you decide to toss me out into the woods because you've tired of me."

"I'm scared, Percival. That I won't be enough for you."

"It's your illness talking." He took a damp cloth and wiped her forehead. Her skin felt cooler to the touch, and Percival sighed with relief. "You'll be well soon and we'll marry. You'll see."

As Fleur closed her eyes, she toyed with her betrothal ring and smiled. "All right."

XXXX

"Porridge. With apples and honey. And a slice of cheese. That's what I want."

Percival awoke on a cot in his chamber, confused. He'd brought in the cot the previous night so he could sleep close to Fleur, should she need care right away. He heeded Anaed's words about self-care, so he forced himself to rest, instead of staying up all night wiping Fleur's brow. He had probably woken a good ten times to check on both Rion and Fleur, but managed some sleep.

But what was all this about porridge? Percival rolled onto his side and faced Fleur. She sat in bed, propped up by pillows, drinking a stone-cold mug of broth, smiling as she sipped. Percival flung himself off the cot and scrambled into bed beside Fleur.

"You're well?" He pressed his lips to her head and touched the back of her neck with his palm, just as Gaius had shown him to do. The heat of fever was gone, and it seemed as if her cough disappeared, too. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long. I woke at dawn. And I am so hungry. I would do anything for some sweet porridge."

Percival chuckled. Then shook with laughter. Finally, he pulled Fleur against his chest kissed the top of her head. He had tried to pin up her hair into a bun while she'd been ill, thinking the long hair off her neck would help reduce her sweating, but he had made a mess of it. The lopsided bun looked like a tangled mass of straw in which rats nested. But who cared? She could be bald and he would still love her. Fleur and Rion were alive and well. Nothing else mattered.

"Wait, I'm coming!" shouted Rion.

He leapt up and skipped across the room, then vaulted into bed and wrapped his arms around both Percival and Fleur. Percival, his eyes filling with tears of relief, clung to his family. It was amazing how children recovered from illness so quickly, and a true blessing Fleur was improving. Perhaps there was something to be said about praying to the gods and goddesses. That was Percival's first real prayer yesterday, and it had been answered. And regardless of how or why his son and betrothed had been spared from death, he would make good on his promise to love them always.

A knock came at the door, and Percival called out it was all right to enter. In strode Gaius with a smile.

"Ah, I see everyone is recovering nicely," said the old physician. "You know, love may not be the answer to everything, but I have seen it heal time and time again. Do any of you need anything from me?"

"No." Percival continued holding Fleur and Rion. "I believe we have everything we need."

XXXX

Three days later, Rion was in perfect health and back at lessons and caring for Banon. Fleur's recovery moved slower. However, with frequent rest breaks, time outdoors in the sunshine, and extra sleep, she was healing.

Percival and Fleur were to marry in just over a week. Hesitantly, Percival asked if Fleur wanted to delay their nuptials for a little while until she recovered fully. When she insisted no, she was ready to wed on Beltane, Percival held back a cheer. He did not want to wait any longer. He had already waited a lifetime for Fleur.

In the Dining Hall, Percival broke his fast alongside Fleur. Her appetite had returned, and Cook was thrilled to dole out bowls full of porridge sweetened with chunks of honeyed apple.

Percival and Fleur sat close as they ate, their knees touching. Any time Percival was near Fleur, he _needed_ to touch her; he had been so close to losing her and recognized every moment was precious. Part of him wanted to drag Geoffrey of Monmouth out of the library and have him perform a wedding ceremony over a half-eaten bowl of porridge right away.

Percival licked clean his spoon. He might have done with another helping; however, King Arthur, Leon, and Merlin strode into the Hall, their expressions somber.

"Knights, assemble immediately in the Council Chamber," announced Arthur, before sweeping from the Hall.

"This cannot be good." Percival kissed Fleur's cheek and rose. "I'll find you after I'm done."

Without delay, Percival headed from the Hall, and Gwaine caught up.

"I've already heard the news," said Gwaine, his voice tight with worry. "We're to ride south for the village of Abertawe at first light. Arthur just returned with Merlin, and they spotted a fleet of King Odin's ships on the channel horizon down there. The ships were stationary at first, but after a half day, Merlin noticed they'd crept closer to shore. Remember Odin's shipwreck on the coast some months ago? No accident. It was Odin's way of sending in spies and testing the waters for an invasion. And let's not forget that run-in we had with them near the lake. I'm sure those knights were scouting the area and planning to attack. We were foolish to think otherwise."

It made sense for King Odin to invade. Nothing quelled Odin's fury over the fact Arthur had killed his son years ago. The man wanted revenge, and if the copper riches for which the seaside village of Abertawe was renowned came along with that sweet revenge, even better. If King Odin of Cornwall seized Abertawe and marched north toward the royal castle with his army, Camelot was in serious trouble.

Percival and Gwaine took their usual seats at the round table. The Council Chamber was so quiet Percival heard his own shallow breathing. Even the most serious of meetings rarely started out this somber. And more concerning than the silence was the thick presence of worry in the air. Council members sat erect, and even Gwaine did not crack jokes.

With no need to call for quiet, Arthur started right in. "Men, we leave for Abertawe not at first light, but at dusk. If we ride hard, we can be in position by sunrise and meet Odin's army at the shore." Arthur briefly explained his battle plans, then dismissed everyone with the order: "Rest for now, say your goodbyes, and prepare to ride out near sunset."

Percival wanted to get to Fleur and Rion right away. He had faced battle many times before, but he'd never had a loving family waiting for his return. This fight against Odin seemed scarier than most, because if Percival fell, for once, there would be people to mourn his death. However, having a family to return to also bolstered Percival's resolve. It would make him fight harder than ever because he had something to fight for – the people he loved.

Percival made it a few paces away from the Council Chamber when Fleur and Rion rushed up to greet him.

"We heard." Rion flung his arms around Percival. "You have to leave. Can I come with you?"

Percival took a knee. "Son, if all goes well, I'll return in a few days. I need you here to take care of Fleur. And Banon. She'll be ready to live with us soon."

"What if you don't come back?"

"I have fought in countless battles, and even during the worst of confrontations, I've made it home. I am confident I will this time, too."

Rion gazed up at him with a pleading look. "Can you promise?"

Percival wished he could, but Rion deserved the truth. If, gods forbid, Percival perished in battle, and had promised Rion he would return home, Rion would never trust anyone ever again. Though painful, honesty was best.

"Rion, any man or woman could die at any time. You know that. But I promise I will fight to the last breath to make it home to you."

"You'll come back to me and Mum?" asked Rion. "I want Fleur to be my mum now, even if you're not married yet. I'm ready."

Fleur knelt beside Percival and faced Rion. "Then our job is to make sure your father goes off to battle with our love filling his heart. Can we do that, son?"

"Yes," said Rion, trying to smile through his tears. "We can do that. Maybe we should play with Banon down in the kennel. Would that make you happy, Father?"

"It would. Banon's a part of our family," said Percival, "and a few hours of puppy love is just what I need."

Percival took Rion and Fleur by the hand, and they headed for the kennel, where they spent time with the adorable pup. By the time Percival returned from Abertawe, Banon might be weaned and ready to live with them. And, of course, there was the wedding to look forward to.

Percival would return to his son betrothed if he had to crawl home with his head hanging by a thread. He had so much to live for.


	26. Facing Odin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, we shall face battle! A quick warning, this chapter does contain some violence and bloodshed. If this is something you might find upsetting, I understand if you do not want to read it. I know that I can struggle writing/reading violence, and I'd be happy to send you a brief summation, if you'd prefer.
> 
> Otherwise...on to Abertawe!

Chapter 26 – Facing Odin

"Ah, nothing like a soothing nighttime ride to the beach," said Gwaine during the army's ride south. "If we weren't facing death, perhaps it would be pleasant. Hey, if we're victorious, I plan to swim in the sea. Naked."

"Hmmm… A sword to the gut or seeing Gwaine's bare arse… I might prefer the sword," said Leon, who rode in formation in front of Percival and Gwaine.

"I knew it! Our First Knight has a sense of humor after all," said Gwaine.

Percival just smiled. This was where Gwaine excelled, bolstering spirits and solidifying camaraderie before confrontations. Percival had been a knight for years, so he could manage his nerves. But the younger men all but shook in their saddles, and Gwaine made it a point to ride around and tell them bawdy stories, making them laugh. Percival hated the fact that many knights saw Gwaine as a joke and not for the man he was – a fierce warrior, the most loyal of friends and subjects, and someone who cared deeply about others. When the young and inexperienced fell in battle, Gwaine was the first to offer prayers over their bodies and shed a tear.

Much like the ladies of the brothel, Gwaine never judged, never considered himself above others. If he drew you into his inner-circle, he held you there, close to his heart and protected. Without a thought, he had accepted Fleur as a friend and Rion as a nephew. Gwaine was the finest man Percival had ever known. Imperfect, to be sure, but the best friend and brother a person might ask for.

"You should see your face, Percival!" Gwaine tossed his head back and laughed as his horse cantered through the dark beside Percival. "What are you thinking about? Wait, don't tell me. You looked sort of serious, then relaxed. You must be thinking about your woman. Or sex. Maybe both."

Percival pressed his lips together and tried not to laugh. "If I was, I wouldn't tell you."

After riding on in silence for a time, Gwaine leaned in and muttered, "These new knights, the young ones, are terrified. We have to show strength. Protect them."

"Worry about yourself, too, Gwaine."

"I… I will."

XXXX

Arthur's army made it to Abertawe before sunup, faster than expected, but not fast enough. Odin's men were already pouring off their ships, crossing the beach, and rushing onto the open, sandy field, which was bordered by tall seagrass. The sand was too soft to fight on horseback, so Camelot's knights dismounted, preparing to battle on foot. Meanwhile, Merlin set up a makeshift infirmary under tree cover where he would manage the wounded.

Arthur hardly had time to shout orders before the first barrage of flaming arrows hit. Gwaine, helping one of the younger knights get his shield up just in time, narrowly escaped a direct hit to the face.

Another round of blazing arrows sliced through the pre-dawn air, and this time, Percival shielded a new knight who had panicked and forgotten all his training. The fire scorched Percival's trousers and seared the back of his thigh. That would leave a permanent mark, but in the heat of battle, wounds seemed to hurt less.

"They outnumber us two-to-one," said Gwaine, while Odin's archers no doubt prepared to fire again. "But you know what I say about those odds, don't you?"

"That you love them?"

Even in the low light, Percival caught Gwaine's wink. "I do."

Before another round of arrows hit and they were forced back further, Arthur ran to the front of the army. "Fight your way to the water and do not stop until you reach it. We can do this, men. You are warriors of the greatest army in the known lands, and I am proud to call you my brothers. For the love of Camelot, charge!"

With wild battle whoops, Percival and King Arthur's men charged onto the sandy field, their swords held high. For Percival, the most terrifying moments of fighting were the first. The instant before blade met blade, his heart thundered and the gorge rose in his throat. If one could survive that first strike, he could survive many more.

Digging deep into his heart and conjuring up his fierce love for Rion and Fleur, Percival fought like he never had. He swung his weapon like it weighed nothing, and cut his way through foes as if they were wild flowers. For his family, the people of Camelot, and his knight-brothers, Percival would slash his way to the water.

An odd quirk of Percival's was when he fought, sounds faded into the background. He heard nothing more than the muffled thud of fists hitting flesh, the muted clang of swords meeting, and a few garbled voices. But somehow, his other senses always became heightened, which made him focus on the sights, smells, and tastes of battle. None of his fellow knights had ever discussed _tasting_ battle, but for Percival, an herbal, tangy flavor meant victory was near, while a sour, minerally taste in his mouth meant potential defeat. It made no real sense, he realized, but perhaps it was his body's strange way of taking over and sending a message. Either way, he heeded the message and always adjusted his fighting techniques accordingly.

As a grayish-pink dawn trickled across the sky, the battle raged on. Odin's men seemed to be everywhere. When two fell, three appeared in their place. During a pause in the fighting, Percival glanced around. Too many of Camelot's knights lay injured or dead, their blood leaking onto the sand, coloring it a cruel rust-red. The tang of burned flesh met his nose. Then another scent grew stronger, fear, that unmistakable, pungent smell of sweat mixed with metallic blood and vomit.

Percival's own fear mingled with his brethren's, but as a knight, he had been trained to accept the fear, dismiss it, and carry on. It was the only way to survive battle. Even so, as he slashed, blocked, and delivered furious blows with his shield, he wondered if this was where it would all end. On this blood-soaked beach in Abertawe, would Camelot fall to Odin? Rulers rose and fell every day. What if King Arthur's time was over?

As a sour taste filled Percival's mouth and his thoughts wandered from battle, a blow from a war hammer missed his face by a hair, propelling him back into action. However, he'd made an awful mistake; he had left himself wide open and was now surrounded by half a dozen men. The sun flared orange and burst over the horizon. It would have been an otherwise stunning sunrise if Percival's life had not hung in the balance.

Odin's men jeered and taunted, jabbing Percival with pikes.

"Crush that giant!" one man called out. "Make sure you get his head! I want to bring it home as a trophy."

The advantage of being an exceptionally tall, robust warrior meant Percival was stronger than most. However, his size also made him a target, and in this moment, he was painfully aware of that fact. He took a quick glance around. His fellow knights were involved in their own fights. He was on his own.

Percival allowed himself a few moments to ask Fleur and Rion forgiveness for being so foolish and leaving himself exposed on the field. Yet if he was not to return to them alive, he would die with honor, and hoped someone would tell them he fought until the very end.

With a guttural growl tearing from his throat, he swung his sword in a vicious arc, then executed a wild back kick. In those two movements, he sent heads rolling and had taken out three of his opposers. Three down, three to go. Perhaps he would come out of this alive.

As he took on the remaining three combatants, Percival heard Gwaine shout, "Hold on, Percival! I'm coming!"

Ignoring Gwaine and summoning his strength, Percival rushed the trio of Odin's men. They looked on in wide-eyed shock and did not have time to bring up their shields. With a clean sweep of his blade, Percival beheaded two of them. From a few paces away, Gwaine flung his sword, which pierced the chainmail of the third enemy right through the chest.

Gwaine retrieved the bloodied sword from the dead man's torso right away and stood beside Percival. "Look around," said Gwaine. "Odin's men have the upper hand. We need to –"

A deep rumbling started beneath their feet. The ground shook so violently Percival had to brace his feet in a wide stance to ensure he did not fall over. The sky turned a purple-black as the ground heaved. Although Percival had heard tales of earthquakes, he had never experienced one, and this was more unsettling than described, the sensation that at any moment, one could be sucked into a chasm in the earth. And it seemed so odd that this quake would happen in the middle of a battle, just when King Arthur's men needed it the most.

The short hairs on the back of Percival's neck stood up. He spun around to look at the woods, and there stood Merlin, partially obscured by a tree, but his hands glowed an unnatural blue and his eyes blazed the color of gold coins. Merlin's lips moved, but Percival was not close enough to hear the words.

Gwaine turned on his heel to face the tree line. “Holy bloody shite,” he muttered. “Merlin’s saving us.”

Dumbfounded by the sight of Merlin exercising incredible magical powers, Percival just nodded his head. Shaking off the awe, Percival peered around. No one else faced Merlin, which was good; otherwise, Merlin's magic would have been known to all, and who knew what the outcome of such a revelation might be? Sorcery was still illegal in Camelot.

An instant later, Merlin ducked behind a tree. The ground stopped shaking and the sky regained its morning golden hue. The tumult had made Odin's men panic. They retreated from the field and ran back to the shore; however, their boats must have unmoored during the earthquake, and the vessels floated off in the distance. Their horses galloped up and down the beach, terrified, trampling Odin's knights. Once the animals fled, Arthur shouted the order to charge the beach. Percival and his comrades swept in, cutting down the rest of Odin's men. This was not a time for restraint; Odin needed to see with his own eyes what would happen if he ever trespassed on Camelot's lands again.

Yet one battered dinghy remained at the shore. King Odin and a handful of his knights entered the boat and shove off into the sea.

"Damn you, Arthur Pendragon!" shouted Odin, shaking his fist as his men rowed. "I will have my revenge one day, I swear!"

Gwaine marched into the water up to his knees and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Let this be the vision you bring back to Cornwall!"

Gwaine turned, dropped his trousers, and shook his arse at King Odin. Arthur's knights howled with laughter, then the rest of them joined in and dropped their trousers. It must have been quite the sight from Odin's boat, seeing hundreds of Camelot's knights shaking their bare backsides at him. It was not behavior Percival would normally engage in, exposing his arse in front of others, but he was so full of relief over having survived, he joined in. The only man who did not participate was King Arthur, but he stood on the beach and clapped and cheered in approval.

"Percival!" Gwaine called out. "Remember what I said I would do once we defeated King Odin?"

Percival yanked up his trousers and laced them. "Um, vaguely?"

With a laugh full of mirth, Gwaine stomped back to the shore and struggled out of his weighty hauberk. After divesting himself of the chainmail, he tore off his clothes, dropped them onto the sand, then went for the naked swim he had promised. The other men followed his example – even Leon! Like gleeful young boys, the men swam, splashed, and roughhoused in the sea. However, frolicking in the channel, nude, was a step too far for Percival, so instead, he wandered over to King Arthur's side.

"They've earned it." Arthur eyed his men, chuckling. "Why don't you join them?"

"Not really my thing."

"Nor mine." Arthur glanced over his shoulder at the woods, his expression now serious. "Merlin's tending to the wounded. And we still have bodies to prepare for funeral pyres. It pains me that anyone had to die. I don't care how many battles I see. This part will never get easier."

"This hits Gwaine hard, too, when the young ones fall."

Arthur turned back around and his gaze settled on Gwaine, who was leading a raucous victory cheer in the water. "He has such heart. I'll never have another knight like him. But don't tell him I said that. He'll be impossible to live with."

"Sire, I won't say a word."

"And then there's you," said Arthur. "A man who committed life and limb to my service when he didn't have to, someone with a sense of justice as strong as my own. You're not in it for the glory, Percival, and I respect that. You're one of my favorites. But again, say nothing."

A flush of pride warmed Percival. He had always hoped the king regarded him well, and to have received such confirmation thrilled him. Odin had been beaten back to Cornwall, and Percival was going home to his soon-to-be bride. This had turned out to be a phenomenal day, largely thanks to Merlin, who had turned the tide of the battle in Camelot's favor, yet only Percival and Gwaine knew. On the way home, Percival planned to speak words of support and devotion to Merlin. Percival hoped Gwaine would do the same.

XXXX

They spent the rest of the morning conducting funerals for Camelot's deceased knights, fifty of them. Afterward, Arthur ordered the men to eat and get a few hours of sleep. They planned to begin the ride north by late afternoon, and would return to Camelot well after dark. The army needed to ride slowly to accommodate the injured, who would require frequent breaks.

Much to his surprise, Percival drifted off beneath a tree in the forest abutting the beach, yet before long, he found himself being woken by Gwaine.

"Afternoon, Sleeping Princess," said Gwaine. "We're saddling up and heading home."

Percival rubbed the grit out of his eyes. "Right. But before we go, let's speak with Merlin first."

"About his…?"

"Exactly."

Percival and Gwaine found Merlin packing up his medicine bag.

"My skinny little friend, walk with me and Percival," said Gwaine, dropping his arm around Merlin's shoulder.

"But we're leaving soon."

Gwaine steered Merlin away from the camp. "Won't take but a moment."

After they were far enough away from camp, ensuring no one would overhear the conversation, Gwaine said, "Merlin, Percival and I know."

"About?" asked Merlin, trying to sound convincingly confused, yet he could not look Gwaine nor Percival in the eye.

"Your magic," said Gwaine. "I've known since you healed my gut wound last summer. I should have died from the injury. I was awake enough to hear your incantation and see your eyes glow. You fixed me. Saved my life."

With a loud, false laugh, Merlin slapped his knee. "How funny, Gwaine. Always the joker. And besides, you weren't in a right state at the time. It was your imagination."

Percival stepped closer. "No, Merlin. We saw what you did on the field today. No one else saw, just Gwaine and I, but you shifted the tide of the battle."

"No." Merlin shook his mop of shaggy black hair. "That's not true. You were in the midst of battle, confused…"

Gwaine rested his hands on Merlin's shoulders. "What does 'haelan wundian' mean? That's what you said when you saved my life."

"No, it – I don't know!" His voice cracking with fear, Merlin pulled away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Wait," said Gwaine slowly. "You think we're going to turn you in to the king, don't you?" Gwaine let out a long laugh. "You cannot be serious. Merlin, Percival and I are your best friends. We would never do such a thing. All we wanted to do was tell you we know about your magic and you don't need to hide it from us. It must be maddening to keep such a secret."

"Gwaine's right," said Percival. "And we wanted to thank you for saving us, all of us. When or if you ever want to tell the king about your powers, we'll be right at your side."

Merlin's panicked gaze slid from Gwaine to Percival. With a groan, Merlin leaned back against a tree and slumped to the ground. "I'm scared. The outcome of my confession is so uncertain. I'm not ready to tell Arthur just yet."

"You don't need to be scared, since it's pretty clear you're the most powerful man in the known lands," said Gwaine with a half-smile. "But can I ask you a serious question?"

"Of course."

"Can you turn water into wine?"

Percival swatted the back of Gwaine's head.

A small smile curved Merlin's lips. "I suppose I might, if necessary."

"Please, forget the water into wine," said Percival. "We just wanted to thank you, Merlin, for all you have done and the risks you've taken. I applaud your bravery."

"I use my magic only for good," Merlin assured them. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

The three men spoke a little longer, and after several reassurances that Gwaine and Percival would stand by Merlin in friendship always, Arthur called out that it was time to break camp. Gwaine rushed off to heed the call of nature before setting out, leaving Percival and Merlin alone for a few moments.

"Percival, there's something I want to tell you," said Merlin, straightening his neckerchief.

"What is it?"

"I have visions sometimes. I can see events yet to come."

"And you've seen something about me?" Percival's knees wobbled. Merlin wouldn't have mentioned this unless it was serious. Was Percival about learn some awful news about his future?

"Yes. You'll face challenges, like all men, Percival, but you are going to lead a long and happy life. I see you bald with children and grandchildren at your feet."

Percival's hand shot up to his shaved, dark-blond hair. But why was he worrying about going bald in his old age when Merlin had just told him about his future? And besides, Merlin's vision could not be entirely correct. He'd said "children," and Percival would have only one child, Rion. Then again, perhaps Percival would adopt more.

"I'm telling you this to help see you through the dark times," said Merlin.

"How dark will things get for me?"

"When you're going through the difficult time, you'll be convinced life is bleak. But when it's over, you'll hardly remember it."

Percival wanted to hear more, but he realized learning too much about the future might be damaging. However, he had one last question. "Merlin, that falcon feather you gave Rion… Does it contain magic? When he holds it, it seems to calm him more than anything else."

Merlin chuckled and shook his head. "It's a mere token. I didn't put a spell on it." He chuckled harder. "I find it funny how so many people look for sorcery when there is none, but miss the obvious magic right in front of their noses."

Feeling foolish for asking, Percival's cheeks grew hot.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed, Percival. While the feather's not enchanted, all nature's beauty contains a degree of magic, and you and Rion might be sensitive to it."

"I'm not sure about that…"

"Consider this," said Merlin. "Love is a somewhat magical entity, don't you think? You cannot see or touch it, yet it's a powerful force that changes us in ways we never expected and cannot define. Would you deny it exists?"

While Percival had never thought of love as magical, perhaps Merlin was right. Love usually manifested when least expected, and transformed lives. It turned the ordinary into the extraordinary.

"So Merlin, what you're saying is that magic is all around us?"

"If we'd only pause to sense it, yes. Magic is always within reach and not to be feared."

Percival clapped Merlin on the back. "You're a wise one. Now let's head home."

XXXX

"Oh, please, dear gods, this is torture, TORTURE!" bellowed Gwaine in his saddle, wincing, as the sun set during their ride home from Abertawe. "I have never been more miserable in my life."

"And you're making the rest of us miserable, Gwaine, with your incessant caterwauling," Leon called over his shoulder.

"Gwaine, I told you I have a salve that might help," said Merlin.

"Merlin, I like you and all, but not enough to allow you to rub a scented balm on my bollocks."

Percival tossed his head back and laughed. "That's what you get for cavorting naked in the sea. How did you miss the jellyfish?"

This was all they'd heard about for hours now, Gwaine's bollock-pain after having been stung by a jellyfish during his nude swim. Apparently, with this type of jellyfish, the pain did not appear until much later.

Gwaine narrowed his eyes at Percival. "You wouldn't be so blithe if your bollocks hurt this much."

"Gwaine!" called Arthur from the front of the formation. "One more word about your bollocks and I'll gag you!"

The knights dissolved into peals of laughter. After scowling at his comrades, eventually, Gwaine joined in. After all, they were going home.


	27. Forgive Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, here we go. Percival and his crowd have made it home! However, do not expect an entirely happy homecoming. Merlin's vision about Percival's struggles? Those struggles start in this very chapter.
> 
> Also, just as a reminder, we have only THREE chapters to go after this, plus the epilogue.

Chapter 27 – Forgive Me

The trek from Abertawe home had taken longer than expected. One of the injured men needed to stop and have his broken rib re-dressed by Merlin, and the young man got sick from the pain. They'd had to slow the pace after that, and as such, King Arthur's army did not cross the border into the Lower Town until well after the middle of the night. Normally, residents lined the streets to welcome knights home from battle, but this time, the streets remained silent. However, the people had left candles and lanterns outside to illuminate the steep path to the castle. To Percival, that act had been just as meaningful as waving banners; it was a way to guide them all home.

By the time the horses were settled, weapons and armor were hung up with care in the armory, and Arthur conducted a quick debriefing, dawn was but a few hours away. Exhausted, the men shuffled off to get some sleep.

Bone-weary and his eyes half closed, Percival trudged up the stairs to his quarters. Fleur and Rion would be asleep, and he did not want to wake them. He would kiss them gently on the forehead, drop into bed, and celebrate his return with them in the morning.

As he clambered up the last few stairs before he reached his corridor, he reminded himself there were only four days left until Beltane and his wedding, and he grinned. Gods, it had been a long wait.

As he rounded the corner, a woman's angry chatter drifted toward Percival.

"Do you remember what I told you after my husband died? Do you? Why have you not heeded me? If you truly loved him…"

"You're right. I'm sorry."

The apology came from Fleur, and Percival jogged toward his room to find Fleur and Caron face to face right outside his door. Caron held up a threatening finger and waved it at Fleur. Percival could not imagine what was going on, but he would definitely stop it.

"Caron!" He stormed right up and stood in front of Fleur, protecting her from this nasty woman's wrath. "I don't know what you're up to, but get away from my betrothed or I will make you pay."

"There's no need to be upset," crooned Caron in a honey-sweet voice. "Fleur and I were only talking. Isn't that right, Fleur?"

Fleur remained silent.

Percival stomped closer to Caron. "Get away, you evil shrew."

Caron gazed up at him with a placid expression on her face. "You're exhausted from your travels and battle, I understand. Welcome home, Percival. We're all glad you are home safe."

"Your words of welcome mean nothing to me." This woman infuriated him and he fantasized about shoving his filthy sock into Caron's mouth to silence her. "Leave us be."

With a shrug and a sneer directed at Fleur, Caron all but skipped off. Percival turned his attention back to Fleur.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. A misunderstanding is all."

"Fleur, that sounded like much more than a misunderstanding. She was threatening you."

Fleur threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. "I am so glad you're home safe," she muttered against him, ignoring his comments. "I missed you so much."

He stroked her hair. "Stay with me tonight. In my bed. Let's forget the rules. Just stay with me."

Fleur pulled back. Her normally warm eyes seemed blank. "Sorry, but I'm a little unwell."

"Then stay and let me take care of you. What's wrong?"

"My stomach, my head… It's nothing, only a minor illness, but it would be best if I slept in my own chamber tonight."

Perhaps that was why Fleur seemed out of sorts. She was unwell and needed ample rest. "All right. But come back when you wake in the morning. Please?"

He pulled her close and kissed her, relishing the sweet softness of her lips, tasting the faint tang of cherries. She kissed back, yet with less enthusiasm than usual. Normally, she melted against him, but not tonight. She pulled away sooner than he would have liked, and Percival found himself missing her comforting warmth.

"I love you so much." Her longing gaze swept over his features. "Never forget that."

"How could I forget? You're marrying me in a few days."

After casting him one final glance, she stroked his cheek and wandered off, leaving Percival feeling unsettled. He tried not to give it too much thought as he ducked into his room and saw Rion lying in his bed, deep asleep, clutching his stuffed dragons and feather. Dee's toy unicorn stood on his pillow. Percival brushed a lock of dark hair from Rion's eye.

"Rion?" Percival gave the child's shoulder a light tap.

With a grin, Rion woke and sat up. "I knew you'd come home. I wasn't worried for a moment!"

Percival pulled Rion into his arms. "Thoughts of you helped see me through the battle. Thank you for guiding me home."

"You made it home because you're strong. The strongest!" Rion gazed up at Percival. "Did you get hurt at all?"

Percival ignored the stinging burn on the back of his thigh. "Only a scratch or two."

With a look of concern on his face, Rion sat back. "Do you need me to stay here with you? Tomorrow, I'm supposed to go with Geoffrey and the boys on our herb-gathering and astronomy lesson in the woods. It's three nights long, but I don't have to go…"

"Of course you must go. Bring back some herbs for me and tell me all about the stars. Then, the day after that will be the wedding."

"So many good things happening," said Rion with a sigh, easing onto his back. "Goodnight, Father. Welcome home."

XXXX

The next morning, Percival woke with a start, realizing Rion still needed to pack for his trip. He shot out of bed and shook Rion awake.

"Rion, hurry, you'll need all sorts of things for your trip. Your bedroll, waterskin, clothes, provisions… We haven't much time."

With a yawn and a lazy stretch, Rion clambered out of bed and yanked a traveling satchel from beneath his writing desk. "It's all here. Fleur helped me pack yesterday. She made sure I had extra apples and goat jerky. And she told me to make sure I changed my drawers."

Percival relaxed. "In that case, let's get dressed and see you on your way."

Rion rushed through his morning routine and insisted he would break the fast with his friends before they set off for the Darkling Woods for their trip. Percival escorted Rion to the library, where the boys met with Geoffrey. After quick hugs and the requisite goodbyes with parents and family members, the excited students charged down the corridor, whooping with excitement. Rion never turned around.

A little heavy-hearted, Percival returned to his chamber. He'd missed Rion while he was away in Abertawe and had hoped to spend some father-son time with him, but it was also important for Rion to learn and connect with his friends. Father-son time would happen when Rion came home.

Besides, Percival and Fleur had much to do before their wedding in four days. There were probably a dozen things she needed help with, and he planned to ask how he might ease her burden. He might lack the skill to braid flower crowns, but he could run other necessary errands.

Percival wandered into his chamber and almost slipped on two pieces of parchment that had been shoved under the door. One was addressed to Rion and the other to him. He undid the wax seal on the letter addressed to him. Before he had the chance to read, two small, circular items fell out and bounced on the ground. He bent to pick them up. They were Fleur's rings, the moonstone ring he had given her for Yule and her betrothal ring. His eyes dropped to the letter. It contained only a few words: _Forgive me. I must go._

"No." Percival crinkled the parchment in his fist. No, this was impossible. This had to be a misunderstanding. Fleur would not leave him, she wouldn't. Just yesterday she told him how much she loved him. There was another explanation for this.

He stared at the rings in his hand, then back at the parchment, absorbing the bitter truth. It was over. Fleur had left him. But how could she do this without telling him why? That was it? Forgive me? She had nothing more to say? He grabbed up Rion's letter. It wasn't right, but Percival needed to read what was inside; he might go mad if he did not.

_Dear Rion,_

_I am afraid I must go away for a time. I cannot say how long I will be gone, but I promise you I will return, and the moment I do, you will be the first person with whom I spend time. You are the son of my heart and I love you very much. I will be thinking of you every day._

_Love,_

_Fleur_

Percival folded the letter carefully and placed it on Rion's bed. Calm. He needed to remain calm. But how was that possible when his heart felt as if it had been cut from his chest and stomped on? How could Fleur write such loving words to Rion and leave Percival with nothing more than _Forgive me. I must go_? And how long would she be gone? A week? Six months? Was she lying about returning? Had she written those words to delay Rion's pain? No, Percival knew Fleur better than that, or at least he thought he had.

Gripping her rings in his fist, Percival paced the room like a caged wolf. He couldn't tend to his duties right now, not like this, with his heart aching with misery and his guts churning with grief. It had taken so long for him to find a woman he loved and trusted, and in the end, she abandoned him. _Everyone_ abandoned him, whether they meant to or not, first his parents and sister, then Caron, and now Fleur. In time, Rion might decide he'd prefer to live elsewhere, and maybe even Gwaine would turn his back on their friendship.

Percival fell onto his bed. "I am so tired of this. I'll never be enough for anyone."

First, he'd have to tell Arthur he needed to take leave from his duties. Percival had weeks and weeks of leave saved up, but three days would do. While Rion was gone, Percival would lie in bed, hangings drawn, and drink himself half-sick. It wasn't the way he normally dealt with his sorrows, but this was an exceptional situation. And after three days of wallowing in self-pity, he'd dust himself off and try to be a decent father and knight again. But life would never be the same without Fleur.

For a moment, he considered going after her. But why force a woman into being with him if she didn't want to? She had made her desires clear; she did not want him. And he had absolutely no idea where she might have gone anyway. Perhaps she decided to return to Cornwall after all to live with her parents. Perhaps they'd arrange for a nice marriage for her, one to a suitable, less wounded man, perhaps someone filthy rich who would give her a life of luxury. He'd probably be an incredible lover, too.

The idea of Fleur going to bed with another man enraged him, and Percival leapt up, upending his bedside table with a deafening crash. Then he scrambled across the room, tossed open the window, and flung Fleur's rings outside. In his fury, he tore into his belt pouch and withdrew the black schorl crystal she had given him for Yule – he kept it close to him always – and tossed that outside, too. He wished his hair was longer so he might tear it out, but instead, he dug his fingernails into his scalp.

Standing before the window, Percival bellowed vile curses. Now he'd done it. The only tangible memories he had of the woman he loved lay in the grass somewhere, ready to be picked up by a passerby at any moment. Without pausing, Percival ran from the castle and onto the field. It was drizzling out and cool, so few people milled around, thankfully, allowing Percival to scrutinize the grass, walking up and down, then across the field. After an hour, when he found no sign of the jewelry, he went to his hands and knees and shuffled around, growling and swearing as he searched. He must have looked like a real lunatic, because no one approached.

The midday meal came and went, and Percival remained empty-handed. As supper drew near, Percival kept clawing at the ground, his eyes burning with fatigue and threatening tears.

"Percival?"

Percival's head shot up. Before him stood King Arthur and Gwaine.

"I lost something," said Percival, his voice as hollow as his soul.

Gwaine got down on all fours. "What is it, man? We'll help you find it."

"Rings. Fleur's rings. She left me, and I tossed them out the window. I have to find them."

Arthur crouched down, too. "We won't stop until we find them."

Why the men did not press Percival for answers, he did not know, but he was grateful for their help. Within the half-hour, Gwaine had been the one to find the rings, along with Percival's crystal. The items sat atop a bed of fallen pine needles near woods. Percival had not thought to look that far.

"Sire, I need a few days off," said Percival. "Three days. Is that all right?"

"Yes. Take this time for yourself. I'll see you when you're ready."

Damp from the drizzle, the men returned to the castle. Arthur wished the men a good evening, and right after, Percival marched his way to the kitchens with Gwaine at his side. He shoved open the double doors and stormed around until he found a jug of wine. He grabbed it, followed by a jug of mead. Cook caught him in the act and he cast her a challenging stare. Just let her try to say something.

"Oh, dear," said Cook, looking Percival up and down. She shoved a warm bread loaf under his arm. "Looks like you need this."

With a nod of appreciation, he left. Gwaine walked beside him, still asking no questions. They were right outside of Percival's door before Gwaine broke the silence.

"I'll let you alone for a few days, but then I'm coming for you," said Gwaine. "But if you need me before then, just say so."

Percival could not muster the energy to speak. With a sigh, he shouldered open his door and prepared to wallow. And drink. Though he sensed there was not enough wine in the entire kingdom to ease the raw misery consuming him.


	28. Finding Fleur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, I think both Percival and you, my wonderful readers, have endured enough heartbreak and angst. The good news is that while this chapter starts out a little angsty, I believe many of you will be pleased by the end.
> 
> Now, without further ado, Percival sets out to find Fleur, thanks to some... encouragement.

Chapter 28 – Finding Fleur

It was the final morning of Percival's pity party, and he had spent the previous days blind-drunk, sick, and often, tearful. The tears bothered him the most, because what kind of Knight of Camelot wept like a baby? No other man would carry on in such a way after being jilted. Most would probably roam the streets within the hour and find a wench to take to bed to help him forget. But when Percival so much as thought about touching another woman, his skin crawled. What he and Fleur had, their bond, had been special and would never be replicated with another.

Maybe Percival should don a frilly pink dress at court in front of all and confess his weakness, that he was not man enough to endure heartbreak and soldier on. Then again, King Arthur had been quite torn up when he and Guinevere had been parted. Perhaps abject misery was not so unusual when one's heart hurt more than he ever imagined possible.

Percival groaned as the morning sunlight bore into his eyes like daggers. His mouth was as dry as a hay bale and his head throbbed like a mule had kicked it a hundred times. Two days of guzzling wine and mead had provided no relief. In fact, he felt worse than ever. Whoever said it was a good idea to drown one's sorrows in drink was an idiot.

With a scowl, Percival turned onto his side and gazed out the window. Rion was out there, hopefully having a wonderful time and learning lots. The boy would return home later this evening, so Percival needed to pull himself together by then.

Reaching up to scratch his head, Percival's vile body odor assaulted him. He was always particular about cleanliness and hygiene, unlike many other knights, but after three days of imbibing and not washing at all, he reeked of sweat and stale mead.

But before he rose and faced reality again, he allowed himself to recall the last time he and Fleur made love. Her touch had made him feel reborn. How was he to do without it for the rest of his life? Moreover, how much sadder would it be facing fatherhood alone? In the beginning, he assumed that was to be the case, but Fleur had shown him how much better it was to parent with a partner.

He peered out the window again. Where was she right now? Days away? On a ship back to Cornwall? Was she all right? Seasick? She still had not regained all her strength after her illness. Though she had wounded him, he was worried about her. He would never stop worrying about her.

Perhaps he needed a few more days off to drink and muse about his misery. He could pretend to be normal when Rion was home, but otherwise remain in bed, torturing himself with the memories of the only woman he had ever loved and would ever love.

Then he recalled that when Rion came home tonight, Percival and the boy would have to talk about Fleur's absence. There would be no avoiding the topic. Would Rion be devastated by her departure? Percival hoped not. Fleur had promised she would see Rion again, and Fleur was a woman of her word.

_But when will she return?_ thought Percival. And when she came back, would she flit by him like he was a stranger? He would not be able to bear that.

With another groan – he'd groaned lots during the last few days – he ran his hands over the stubble on his jaw. He had no one for whom to shave any longer. Perhaps he'd grow a beard down to his chest. What difference did it make? What difference did anything make?

Out of nowhere, Percival's chamber door blasted open as if someone had used a battering ram. However, it was not an invader; it was just Gwaine. He kicked the door open so hard the bolt ripped off the doorjamb and splinters flew. It was not all that odd that Gwaine elected to enter in such a dramatic way, but the fact little Lila stormed in, her fair hair wavy and wild, her hands on her hips, surprised Percival. She marched up to the bed and shook her fist.

"You find Fleur now!" insisted the angry little toddler. "No more bedtime and being…" She looked over her shoulder to Gwaine for help.

"Stupid," mouthed Gwaine.

Lila rounded on Percival again. "No be _stooopid_ , Sir Purple," she said with a fierce look, then wrinkled her nose. "And you stink. You take a bath!"

Percival pulled the covers over his bare chest. "Gwaine, is this necessary?"

Gwaine shrugged from the doorway. "I figured you wouldn't listen to me, so I brought reinforcements."

"Lila…" Percival pulled on his tunic and sat up. "Fleur doesn't –"

"No!" Lila interrupted, shaking her fist again. "You go now and don't be stooopid and…"

"Pitiful," added Gwaine. He approached the bed and took Lila's hand. "Come on, fierce little Lila. Let's bring you back to the nursery. Thank you for your help."

Once Gwaine was out in the corridor with the child, he called out, "I'll be back for you soon, Percival, so be ready."

Percival sat on the edge of his bed, weighing his options. He could give up his knighthood, hand over Rion to Gwaine to raise, and turn into the town drunk. He pictured himself living in a cave like a hermit, occasionally staggering into the Lower Town, unwashed and bedraggled, clutching a faded wineskin to his chest. Caterwauling nonsense, he'd collapse in the middle of the road. When men came up and kicked him in the ribs, demanding he move on, Percival would shout, "I wasn't always a madman like this! I had a woman I loved once!"

That was the most ridiculous, pitiful (Gwaine had chosen the proper word) future ever, and what Percival might very well face if he did not at least try to go after Fleur. He could not live with himself if he did not make a true effort to win her back. If she rejected him, he would be crushed, but he had to try. It was the right thing to do; his heart demanded it.

Before Percival had the chance to wash and change clothes, Gwaine was back in the room. "Stand up," said Gwaine, looming over the bed.

Percival rose, ready to tell Gwaine he was going after Fleur. But before Percival uttered a single word, Gwaine pulled back his fist and punched Percival in the jaw. Percival's head snapped back and his teeth clacked together. The blow was unexpected, so Percival lost his footing and hit the ground. Stars crossed his vision and he pressed his palm to his throbbing jaw.

"Gwaine!" Percival scrambled to his feet and grabbed his best friend by the front of his tunic. "Have you gone mad?"

"No, but you have! You cannot lie here like a sheltered princess, whining and sobbing, doing nothing because your betrothed left you. That's ridiculous and not the Percival I know. You need to pull yourself together, go after Fleur and –"

Percival slapped a hand over Gwaine's mouth. "That was what I planned to do until you punched me in the face."

"Oh," Gwaine mumbled through Percival's fingers. Percival dropped his hand. "You were just sitting there and I figured you'd given up. I thought you needed a little shove in the right direction. A shock, perhaps, to make you see reason."

"I saw reason just fine. I was merely gathering my thoughts before I bathed and dressed."

"Right. You should bathe, definitely, because you smell terrible. And clean your teeth. Your breath smells like a mule's back end."

Percival took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Thank you for the lovely advice. And did you enjoy that punch?"

"Maybe a little." Gwaine smirked. "But we don't have time for pleasantries. We're leaving. Wash. Dress!"

"I didn't realize your punches and insults counted as 'pleasantries.'"

"No more stalling." Gwaine tossed over a soap cake and a linen cloth. "We need to set out now."

Percival disappeared behind the privacy curtain, stripped down, and washed with cold water from his ewer. As he scrubbed, a sudden realization came to him – Caron must have somehow been involved with Fleur running off. How could he have been so blind?

"Gwaine, I've been a total fool. I caught Caron arguing with Fleur in the corridor when I came home from Abertawe. She must be the reason Fleur's gone."

"Well, in your defense, you've been exceptionally drunk and dispirited, which does not help a man think clearly."

"I'll go to Caron, and –"

"No," Gwaine interrupted. "You must stay away from that witch. I'm sure she wants to see you so she can ensnare you in her web of deceit. Besides, she'll never tell you the truth about anything. Consider her useless. I have a better idea."

"You do? Fleur could be anywhere. Where do we begin?"

"The brothel."

"Why the brothel?"

"Trust me, big man, those women know everything about everything. It's a good place to start."

"Whatever you say." Percival pulled on fresh clothes and buckled his sword belt. He stepped out from behind the curtain while affixing his cloak and securing his belt pouch. "I'm open to any ideas."

XXXX

Percival hobbled his horse, then strode right up to the brothel door. He recalled his first visit here when he helped with the donations, close to a year ago, when the thought of being inside made him nervous and sweaty. He was nervous, but for an entirely different reason this time. If these women knew nothing about Fleur's whereabouts, he had no idea where to turn.

Gwaine stood beside him, and Percival knocked and knocked. He heard movement inside, and wondered why no one answered the door. During a break in his pounding, Anaed stuck her head out the window.

"What do you gentlemen want?" she asked, her tone cold as ice.

"What's the problem, Anaed? Open the door," said Gwaine.

"If you have no business here, I'm afraid you'll have to move on." After shooting Percival an angry glare, she let the window clatter shut.

"She knows something about Fleur. I can sense it," said Percival. "She wouldn't be so evasive otherwise."

"Definitely."

"What do we do now?"

"We're knights," said Gwaine cheerfully. "We force our way in. I'm sure we can get one of the ladies to tell us something."

Percival did not like the idea of breaking into the brothel and causing damage, but Anaed had left him with few options. She and Percival were friendly, and there was no reason for her to be so chilly and abrupt unless she knew something about Fleur's whereabouts and was trying to avoid him.

"All right." Percival's eyes swept up and down the heavy oaken door. "It's sturdy. We'll need to kick it in together. On the count of three. One… two… Wait!" He flung his arm in front of Gwaine and held him back. "Maybe it's open."

Percival pushed on the door; it was unlocked. Taking a deep breath, he walked inside with Gwaine right behind him. Despite the sunshine outdoors, the house was dim with curtains drawn and only a single candlestick glowing with pale amber light.

"What did I tell you?" Anaed stormed up to Percival. "If you two have no business here, LEAVE."

Casting off his last shred of pride, Percival fell to his knees before her. "Fleur left me. If you know where she is, Anaed, I am begging you to tell me."

Scowling, Anaed tapped her foot against the floor as her eyes narrowed. "Maybe I do. But like most men, I am sure you deserved to be left. You seem pleasant enough, but I've learned few men are to be trusted. When women come to us for help, we offer aid and ask no questions."

Percival glanced back at Gwaine, who appeared hurt by Anaed's words. Something had to be going on between the two of them, but Percival did not have time to consider it.

Not budging from his submissive position on the ground, Percival said, "Anaed, she left me a brief note saying to forgive her for leaving and nothing more. I love Fleur with my entire being. I've spent the last three days in a drunken stupor, miserable, trying to figure out where I went wrong. Maybe I'm not worthy of her, but I cannot help how much I love her."

Anaed's hard stare softened and she gave him a sad smile, so he carried on.

"I would give up _anything_ to make sure Fleur understood how much I love her. Maybe it's asking too much to have her wed me as we planned, but if I cannot tell her how I feel, I don't know how I'll survive it. All I have wanted to do is love and treasure her. Nothing more."

"You must be angry that she left you," said Anaed.

He shook his head, his throat tightening with emotion. "I could never be angry with her. I love her too much. There is nothing she could do that I would not forgive. Let me tell her that, Anaed. Please."

Out of the corner of his eye, Percival caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure emerging from the back room.

"Hello, Percival."

It was Fleur. Though little light illuminated the space, seeing her before him warmed his heart as if the sun shone right into his chest. He remained on his knees and allowed her to draw closer.

"Shall we leave you two?" Anaed asked Fleur.

"Yes, it's all right," said Fleur, offering a hand and helping Percival to his feet. "I'd like to speak to him alone."

Anaed opened the front door and springtime sunshine flooded the room. "Right. But Gwaine and I will be just outside in case you need anything. Don't hesitate to call out."

"There won't be any need," said Fleur.

Percival wondered what that meant. Did it mean she was about to dismiss him quickly, or was there hope? There had to be hope, otherwise, she would not have come out to speak to him.

He studied her closely. Although she had walked away from him, seeing her beautiful face and those loving, warm eyes made his heart shudder. She still loved him; it was clear in her smile and the way she gazed at him with affection.

Fleur took his hand. "I am so sorry for the pain I caused you. I panicked. I realize that's not an adequate excuse for running off, but I promise, I was just about to return to you and beg your forgiveness."

All the misery and anxiety Percival had kept bottled up for the past three days left his body in a rush, and a warm surge of relief heated his insides. He could not stop himself from drawing Fleur close and holding her tightly. Percival tried to summon a shred of anger or disappointment, but with the woman he loved pressed to his body, he could do neither. Her reasons for leaving didn't matter. She had made a mistake, admitted it, and wanted to be with him again. He needed nothing more.

"I left because of Caron." Fleur took a step back, but kept her hands pressed against Percival's chest, as if she could not stand to break their connection. "She told me she was a woman of high status and would give you sons, _real_ sons, whereas I was no better than a servant. She said if I cared for you, I would leave and not burden you with a marriage to a lowly nursemaid. That she would make you happy and wealthy. Hearing those words made me feel horrid and I wondered if there might be some truth to them."

It was all Percival could do to not burst into hysterical laughter over Caron's idiotic statement, but the wounded look in Fleur's eyes made him hold back. Caron was such a shallow fool.

"Fleur." Percival covered her hands with his. "Caron could give me a thousand palaces of pure gold and it would not matter. I would live in a hovel crawling with rats for the rest of my life if it meant I would be close to you. Caron offers me nothing, whereas you offer your heart. And that is all I need."

"I'm sorry." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I've been emotional, not myself these days, and I regret the pain I've caused you with my rash and selfish behavior. I left you when you needed me and that was awful, but I promise I will never willingly leave you again. Can you forgive me?"

He thumbed away her tears. "There is nothing to forgive. You were manipulated and frightened into leaving. But there is one thing you can do to ease my worries."

"Anything."

"Marry me today, right here, right now." The words flew out of his mouth before he had time to fully consider the ramifications, but he needed this from Fleur. Marrying in a brothel was likely not Fleur's idea of a dream wedding, but he had to know she was willing to commit to him right away.

"Yes, of course I will. Right now. But there's something you must know first."

"What is it?" Again, he studied her closely. This time, he noticed her face was paler than usual and a little narrower. Dear gods, she was ill. Perhaps she had never recovered from her illness weeks ago, or, it was returning. Well, no matter how long they had together, be it days or years, he would love and protect her. Nothing would change his mind about wanting to marry her.

"I've not felt well for the last week."

"I can see that. You look tired and thinner. But you can sit down for our wedding, and then see Gaius right after. I'll take care of you, no matter what's wrong."

"Actually, I know what the issue is."

Percival braced himself for awful news. "Tell me, what is it?"

"I saw the midwife today," said Fleur.

Percival's thoughts raced. He'd heard of women dying from internal growths and whatnot. This had to be it. "And what did she say? Is your problem treatable?"

Fleur seemed to be suppressing a grin. "Very treatable. In fact, it'll be all over by Yule."

"I don't understand…"

"I'm with child, Percival. Nearly two months gone."


	29. In the Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope many of you are feeling relieved after reading the previous chapter. Man, it has been a LONG and winding road to get to this place, hasn't it?
> 
> Well, all of you wonderful readers have waited long enough for this moment, THE WEDDING.
> 
> Also, so you know, the next chapter (thirty) will bring us about half a year into the future, and in the epilogue — which comes right after that — we will see the characters ten years in the future. And perhaps in this future, many of our favorite characters did NOT die.
> 
> Lastly, there's a special little dedication at the end of this chapter that's very important to me and I had to include.

Chapter 29 – In the Garden

The shock of the news that Fleur was pregnant almost knocked Percival over. He blinked several times and took a long, deep breath before replying. "With child? I thought it was impossible."

"As did I. But the midwife confirmed it. She agreed that my womb is an odd shape, and the fact I conceived is a near miracle, but we're going to have a baby, Percival."

Percival did not bother holding back his tears of utter joy. Overwhelmed with happiness, he drew Fleur to him and crushed his mouth against hers. He wondered if there would ever be another moment as wonderful as this.

During the kiss, Gwaine and Anaed burst back into the cottage, cheering and jumping up and down.

"I sent a runner into the Darkling Woods to collect Geoffrey and Rion for the wedding," said Anaed, her dark eyes shining with happiness. "Geoffrey to perform the ceremony and Rion because your boy has to be here for it. Obviously."

"Sorry we listened in," said Gwaine with a shrug and a playful smile. "Couldn't be helped. And I sent the blacksmith's son up to the castle to inform Cook to get started on the wedding feast right away."

Percival chuckled. "The poor boy. I hope he survives Cook's wrath."

"Oh, you know Cook," said Gwaine. "She'll bluster and storm about, but in the end, she'll love it." He turned to Fleur. "And the boy's retrieving your wedding dress from your chamber. I figure you want to look nice on your wedding day."

Percival's elation dwindled. What was he thinking? He should have waited one more day to marry Fleur. It was not fair of him to insist she marry him immediately in the brothel. Perhaps they should wait until tomorrow…

"Fleur, come out back." Anaed grabbed her hand. "And you, too, Percival. I want to show you something."

Anaed dragged them out the back door and into an unexpectedly beautiful little flower and herb garden. It was not as lavish as the castle's, of course, but it was still vibrant and colorful, offering two lush birch trees for shade. Percival breathed in; it smelled like mint and violets. Patches of yellow and purple wildflowers graced the edges of the stone path, and Anaed started picking.

"Come, Fleur," said Anaed. "We must make your crown! And I'll fix your hair."

Fleur rushed over and plucked flowers. "And you'll be my bridesmaid, Anaed."

"I…" Anaed stopped picking and her lips twitched. "You want me?"

"Yes. I want you. Why wouldn't I? You're my friend."

XXXX

The next hour or so passed in a blur of activity. Word spread that Percival and Fleur were to wed straight away, so people turned up at the brothel. Leon and Merlin arrived, and the two of them, along with Gwaine and Percival, stood guard outside, not allowing anyone in.

"Sorry, all," Gwaine told the burgeoning crowd, "the garden can hold perhaps twenty people, so very few of you will make it in. But feel free to wait out here and wish the new couple well after their nuptials are over."

"But can we see the bride?" a young girl called out.

"After, yes. You're all welcome at the castle for the wedding feast."

Leon rolled his eyes and groaned. "Cook will kill you, Gwaine."

"Right. Better send up another runner to make sure there's enough food."

"Excuse me," came a proper, authoritative voice from the center of the crowd. "Please allow us to pass."

Percival peered over the heads of the people who had gathered. He spotted Geoffrey, Rion, and Angan standing together. Percival instructed the people to make way, then ushered the trio inside. He'd allow Gwaine and his friends to take over guarding for now.

Rion tripped over the threshold in his excitement. "This is a surprise wedding? I love it!"

"Yes." Percival grinned and ruffled Rion's hair. "It is. And are you ready to be one of my best men?"

"I am. Sorry I'm a little messy."

That was an understatement. Rion's tunic and trousers were stained with dirt and grass, and his shaggy hair was more tangled than Percival had ever seen.

"Rion!" called Anaed with excitement, striding into the room. "So glad you're here. Come with me and let me fix you up a little."

Meanwhile, Gwaine came in and took Percival aside. "Who are we allowing into the garden for the ceremony?"

Percival chewed on this thumbnail. "We'll be lucky to fit twenty. Already, we have me, Fleur, Rion, Geoffrey, Anaed, and you, obviously Leon and Merlin… I promised Angan he could be there, so that leaves eleven spaces." He rubbed his hands over his face. "I hate to leave people out."

"Rather than drive yourself mad, why not just leave it at the nine guests? I've already told everyone they're invited to the wedding feast at the castle," said Gwaine. "Have your small wedding without a lot of worries and deal with the throng afterward."

Percival nodded his head up and down slowly. "You're right. Good plan."

From behind a privacy curtain, Anaed still fussed with Rion and Fleur. Moments later, Rion emerged, clean, his hair slicked back, wearing a fresh, bright-white tunic. Percival did not want to think about where or from whom Anaed might have obtained the shirt. Regardless, Rion looked handsome and mature.

"All you men, please take your places out in the garden," Anaed ordered from behind the curtain. "The bride will be ready shortly."

As instructed, Percival, Rion, Gwaine, Angan, and Geoffrey went out back. After Leon and Merlin secured the front of the home, they joined the small group.

"Are you nervous at all?" asked Geoffrey, as he and Percival crossed the garden, stopping once they reached the birch trees.

"No. I'm eager to marry. I've waited a long time for this."

After dusting off his hooded traveling cloak and withdrawing his black prayer book from his belt, Geoffrey motioned for Percival to face the door. "Your wish is about to come true."

Percival looked up and saw Anaed guiding Fleur down the short stone path. Fleur looked, in a word, radiant. The queen herself could not have appeared more ravishing. And it was not the beautiful, gossamer dress Fleur wore that made her look so stunning, nor the way her soft blond waves framed her face, nor the crown of vibrant wildflowers resting on her head; it was her smile of pure joy that stole Percival's breath. No man in the known lands could love a woman the way he loved Fleur.

She made her way to his side and they clasped hands. The moment their fingers interlaced, Fleur's eyes welled up with emotion, but she blinked away the tears and smiled.

"Gods, Fleur," whispered Percival, running his thumb over her knuckles. "I love you so much."

They gazed at one another with adoration as the ceremony started. Geoffrey spoke words that Percival barely heard, as Percival was too absorbed soaking in Fleur's beauty. Geoffrey mentioned something about the heart's passion, a blessed union, then honoring and protecting. Percival repeated vows, and before he knew it, he and Fleur were being handfasted by hemp cords.

"And so the binding is made," said Geoffrey, closing his prayer book. "By the laws of Camelot, I hereby pronounce you married. Percival, you may seal your vows with a kiss."

Percival did not hesitate. With his left hand still bound to Fleur's, he pulled her to his chest. She melted against him as he kissed her long and hard. _Let everyone see our love_ , he thought.

"My mum and father are married!" Rion cheered.

Finally, Fleur and Percival separated. While Geoffrey removed their handfasting cords, Percival motioned for Rion to approach. He dragged his son and wife into a family embrace, and they held one another, smiling, laughing, and rejoicing in the fact they were, by law, now a family of three.

After many hugs and well wishes, the newlyweds and their guests strode through the brothel and out the front door. "Throng" did not seem to adequately describe the number of people who had gathered; there were hundreds and hundreds.

"Goodness," muttered Leon. "This is a lot of people to feed."

The crowd shouted their congratulations and tossed flowers at Fleur and Percival. Immediately, Leon took charge and guided the exuberant group of well-wishers up to the castle. He and Gwaine led everyone into the Great Hall while Percival, Fleur, and Rion stood outside on the stone steps to catch their breath for a moment.

"There are LOTS of people in there," said Rion. "Do you know what that means?"

"No. What?" asked Fleur.

"That everyone loves the two of you. Just like I do. Now let's eat! I'm hungry after three days of bread and goat jerky…"

Arm in arm, the three of them entered the Great Hall. Percival had never seen the vast room so packed with people. King Arthur and Queen Guinevere were the first ones to offer their congratulations. Next came Gaius, several knights, the castle nursemaids, and little Lila and Lew.

"I tell you go get her, and you go get her!" said Lila with a grin. "Now, you married!"

Percival knelt down and hugged her. "Thank you, little Lila."

Rion rushed off with Angan and their friends. Meanwhile, Percival and Fleur went in separate directions, greeting people and thanking them for coming. During a quick break in the action, Merlin tapped Percival's shoulder.

"Remember what I said last year at the Gathering Day bonfire?" asked Merlin.

"I'll never forget. 'When you find love, hold onto its reins and do not let go for any reason.' Those words helped me more than you'll ever know."

Merlin winked and moved on.

Food came out, so Percival and Fleur took their seats. Percival could not believe the incredible feast Cook had produced on such short notice. They started out with braised fennel and buttered root vegetables, then moved on to salads dressed with fish sauce. For the main course, they dined on chicken stuffed with bread and oysters. It was the finest meal Percival had ever consumed.

Percival was just about to go to the kitchens to thank Cook personally when she and a kitchen maid brought out the wedding cake on a carved wooden platter and set it down on the table.

"I'm sorry, Sir Percival and Lady Fleur, that the maids and I did not have time to make the traditional tower of honeyed buns, but we hope this will do."

It was a thick, round cheesecake, redolent with the aroma of honey and fragrant spices. In the center of the mouthwatering dessert sat a heart made out of raspberry jam. The servants brought out palm-sized cakes for the rest of the tables while Percival stared at his treat. Without delay, Percival shot to his feet and embraced Cook.

"You've done a marvelous job, Cook. Thank you for everything."

And for once, she did not scoff nor stiffen. "The pleasure is mine. You and your lovely bride deserve it."

The guests wolfed down their desserts, and right after, the music and dancing started. One could scarcely move in the Hall, as it was that packed, but people seemed to have the time of their lives as they danced to the festive wedding tunes. The Hall echoed with music and laughter.

Percival and Fleur sat back and held hands, taking it all in.

"Where's Rion?" asked Fleur. "I've not seen him since he finished his dessert."

"That's a good question…"

Gleeful puppy barks rang out in the Hall, and Percival and Fleur turned to the commotion. Rion stood at the entry doors with Banon squirming in his arms.

"No, wait, Banon!" cried Rion, but it was too late. Banon had shot from Rion's arms into the crowd. The puppy tore down the Hall, yipping and leaping. People tried to catch the black, scruffy pup, but she was too fast. First, she scrambled up onto a table, stole a half-eaten chicken breast off a plate, and gobbled it down. Angan dove for her, but she skittered away. Next, she ran down the center of the banquet table and polished off a round of bread, slipping through people's hands as they tried to grab her. At the very end, she lapped up wine from a goblet.

"Oh, no," groaned Percival. "That dog is in for a stomach ache later."

Banon hopped off the table and ran over to Percival and Fleur. The dog stared up at Percival with hope in her one eye, then let out a huge burp, and fell asleep at his feet.

The dancing and music stopped. All the attendees went silent, staring at Percival's table in wide-eyed surprise.

"Father, I'm sorry!" Rion rushed over. "I didn't mean –"

Percival and Fleur giggled, followed by Gwaine. Everyone else joined in, and eventually the Hall shook with laughter. Percival allowed Banon to remain as their "fierce guard dog," but at the very end of the celebration, Rion brought her back down to the kennel. She needed to remain there for one last night before she was ready to join her family.

By the time the wedding feast wound down, it was late at night. A few couples remained, including Gwaine and Anaed. Though the music had ended earlier, they swayed in one another's arms in front of the dim hearthfire.

As servants cleaned up, Queen Guinevere approached Percival and Fleur's table. "You two must be exhausted."

"It just hit me, Your Highness," said Fleur. She squeezed Percival's hand. "I think I'd like to retire."

Percival tried not to leap out of his seat with excitement. Although his head ached thanks to fatigue, he wanted nothing more than to share his bed with his wife, naked. That would be the perfect ending to their day, even if they made love only once and then passed out.

"I hope the two of you have a wonderful evening and a blessed marriage," said Guinevere. "Oh, and by the way, Caron – that horribly disagreeable woman – is gone."

"Gone?" asked Fleur with surprise.

"I am afraid so. She packed up and left for her parents' in northern Camelot. I _strongly_ suggested she would be far happier there than here. Don't you agree?"

"I do!" said Percival. "Very much so."

"I also mentioned that it would be quite unwise for her to return to the castle. Ever," added Guinevere.

Fleur gave a small frown. "I feel for the woman. I hope she can find happiness one day."

Percival didn't reply, but patted his wife's hand. Fleur was too kind. He was nothing short of elated that Caron had left the city. It was as if a huge burden had been lifted. Caron's departure was one less aggravation to deal with, and would not miss her for a moment.

Queen Guinevere bid them a good evening when Gwaine strolled up, his hand on Rion's shoulder. "Rion and I will have a man's night together in my quarters, a night full of…" Percival narrowed his eyes at Gwaine. "Full of dragon stories! Please, big man, I know what to do with my nephew."

"Goodnight Mum, Father," said Rion, yanking Gwaine away by the hand, clearly all too eager to spend the night with Uncle Gwaine.

"Thank you Gwaine!" Fleur called out, and Percival repeated the same. Percival was truly grateful to have his wedding night alone with Fleur.

Percival leaned close to his wife. "Let's sneak out. I've had enough revelry for one day."

"I agree."

They slipped out the side door of the Great Hall and made their way up the stairs and to their bedchamber with no one noticing. Percival opened the door, then lifted Fleur. She squealed as he carried her over the threshold. As she giggled, Percival gently deposited her into bed, then barred the door. They would not leave the chamber unless the castle was aflame.

Yearning thrummed through his body. He was thrilled to finally have his wife, in _their_ bed for the first time, that he unbuckled his belt and had his tunic off in a few heartbeats. Then he paused, recalling Fleur carried their child.

"Um, Fleur?" He took a tentative step toward the bed. "Is it all right for us to, ah, be together intimately? With the baby and all? If it's not, that's fine…"

She leaned over and blew out the candles next to the bed, then crooked her finger and gave him a seductive smile, her pale face illuminated by the bright silver moonlight pouring in through the window. "Very all right. Now help me out of this dress."

Fleur did not have to ask him twice.

Despite the fatigue from their long wedding day, they spent most of the night making love. Every time her hands roamed his body, he grew lightheaded with desire. In the recesses of his mind, Percival recalled some of his comrades complaining that married sex was dull, but Percival could not have disagreed with them more. These were the moments in life to be treasured, those spent in the arms of the woman one loved, reveling in her sweet softness. Percival was lucky and would spend the rest of his days thanking the gods for his good fortune.

Eventually, total exhaustion took hold, and Percival and Fleur drifted off, tangled up in an embrace.

XXXX

"Hello? Hello? Open up, I'm home!"

"Dear Mother Goddess," muttered Percival, half asleep the morning after the wedding. Could it be dawn yet? He opened his eyes and Fleur was already dressed.

"Oh, good, Rion's home!" she said with a smile.

Fleur unbarred the door before Percival had time to object. He remained undressed beneath the covers, which Fleur must have forgotten. The instant the door swung open, Banon charged in first, followed by Rion and Gwaine. The puppy hopped onto the bed, then proceeding to play tug-of-war with the sheet covering Percival. She growled playfully, shaking her head back and forth with the fabric between her teeth as Percival tried to keep himself covered.

"Will someone please control this animal?" asked Percival, wrestling the sheet away from the puppy. "I need to dress."

"Why aren't you dressed, Father?" asked Rion, his brow furrowed in confusion. "It's late in the morning." He pulled a face. "Never mind, I know why you're not dressed… Disgusting," he muttered, while Gwaine laughed in the background.

Rion called over Banon, and obediently, the animal hopped off the bed and pranced to Rion's side.

Meanwhile, gathering the bedsheet around his waist, Percival rose and ducked behind the privacy curtain. He did a quick scrub down and dressed.

"Did you have a lovely evening?" questioned Gwaine.

"Oh, yes," said Fleur. "And what about you, Rion? How was your evening?"

"The best!"

Rion told Fleur every detail of his night with Gwaine, and how they retrieved Banon in the middle of the night, and the Kennel Master said it was all right.

"Banon's here for good!" said Rion. "Isn't that wonderful?"

Percival stepped out from behind the curtain. The puppy wagged her tail and whined, then ambled over to him. She rubbed her head against his knee and grunted like a happy pig. Any bit of irritation Percival felt about the sheet tug-of-war vanished. She was a sweet and loving puppy, perfect for them. Percival bent down and patted her head.

"It is wonderful to have her," said Percival.

Gwaine stepped out of the room. "If it's all right with you, I'll be on my way."

"Yes, and thank you for taking care of Rion last night," said Percival.

"Please, I loved it. Rion and I will spend another night together soon, right?"

"Yes!" Rion gave a huge grin. "We had the best time."

With a wink, Gwaine closed the door and strode off.

"Well, family, we have the whole day off together," said Percival. "What shall we do?"

"Can we take Banon for a walk in the woods?" asked Rion excitedly. "She'll love it. We can pack a picnic and maybe even build a fort by the creek. Doesn't that sound good?"

"It sounds perfect." Percival beckoned for his son to approach. "Come here, you. And you too, wife."

Percival pulled them down onto the bed and squeezed them against his body. While they laughed, Banon hopped onto the bed and wriggled her way between them.

"I love you both so much," said Percival, pressing kisses to the tops of their heads. Life offered only a few moments of perfection, and this was one of them. He would never, _ever_ forget his good fortune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was in the midst of writing this chapter, my dog, Maggie, unexpectedly passed away at age twelve. Although she was older, she had been in great health up until her last day, and her loss devastated me. In an effort to cope with the pain, I expanded the section of this chapter in which Banon goes on her banquet-table frenzy. It was something Maggie would have done, if given the opportunity, because she was a wild, wonderful, loving dog, just like Banon.
> 
> Thank you, Maggie, for twelve years of joy. I think of you every day.


	30. Fluffy Pink Blankets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, I must confess, I am feeling VERY emotional about the fact our journey together is coming to a close. This is it, the last chapter before the epilogue. As I mentioned previously, here, we spin seven months into the future and will focus on a significant event in Percival, Fleur, and Rion's lives.
> 
> Yes, we have experienced ups and downs, sadness and joy, and probably a whole host of other emotions. However, my goal has always been to provide readers with an enjoyable escape from reality, and I hope you can see a little of yourselves or your lives in the storylines. While this has largely been Percival's journey, I also feel like we've been on one together, as sappy as that may sound.
> 
> There will be no beginning author's not for the epilogue, but I am SURE I will write a very long, sentimental end note. But in the meantime, welcome to chapter thirty.

Chapter 30 – Fluffy Pink Blankets

_Seven months later…_

"I honestly cannot stand this!" growled Percival, pacing Gwaine's bedchamber, as Rion looked on with wide eyes. "I have to go in there, do _something_ …"

Gwaine blocked his bedchamber exit. "Oh, no you don't. Let the midwife do her work. You cannot walk in on your wife's delivery and distract her. Absolutely not. Stay out of it."

Percival stormed up to Gwaine. "Do you hear her screaming? That cannot be _normal_. Something is wrong."

Percival dragged his fingers through his new beard. Hearing his wife's cries of agony down the hallway was pushing him to the edge of madness. Several hours earlier, Fleur had gone into labor just as the nighttime Yule feast had started. Gwaine had encouraged Percival to remain at the feast as a distraction, but Percival would have none of it. If he could not be in his quarters with Fleur as she delivered their child, he wanted to be as close as possible.

"Percival, there is nothing wrong. We've heard women give birth in the castle plenty of times. This is how is goes." Gwaine leaned in and whispered, "And you're scaring your son. Pull yourself together."

Percival spun around. Sure enough, eight-year-old Rion's eyes filled with tears and he sniffled. Gwaine was right; Percival needed to comport himself.

"Yes, Gwaine, I'm sure she is fine. It's just hard to hear her suffering."

"Perhaps we should go elsewhere," suggested Gwaine, "like back to the feast, or the library, somewhere that's not here. Maybe a walk? The tavern?"

Rion shook his head. "No, I want to stay close by."

"So do I," said Percival. "We'll" – he peered around the room – "play knucklebones. That's what we'll do until the midwife calls for us."

The three of them sat at the dining table; however, the knucklebones game lasted about ten heartbeats because no one could concentrate. When a piercing scream rang down the corridor, Percival's head shot up and he gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white.

 _This is normal, completely normal,_ kept echoing in his mind. _Fleur's fine, just fine... But I have to see for myself!_

He flew out of his seat and tossed open the door before Gwaine could block him. Percival jogged down the hallway with Rion right at his side. The young midwife emerged from his chamber, and Percival, unable to help himself, rushed forward and grabbed her by the arms.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"I came to tell you all is fine," she said with an appeasing smile while pushing away Percival's hands. "But unfortunately, you cannot come in yet."

A lusty baby's cry met Percival's ears. _His_ baby. "Why not? Is the baby all right? Is Fleur?"

"Oh, yes. But it's… perhaps you should sit down."

Percival clenched his fists at his sides. "I do not wish to sit. Tell me what's happening."

"There's another one coming."

"Another what?"

"Baby. Fleur's having twins."

Percival pulled at the collar of his tunic. It had grown unbearably hot and the walls seemed to waver before his eyes. And why did the floor lurch beneath his feet? Unable to speak, his knees wobbled, but Gwaine was suddenly behind him, holding him upright.

"Take a few deep breaths," Gwaine instructed.

Percival listened. After several calming breaths, he stopped sweating and the walls no longer heaved. His legs regained their strength.

"The second should come along quickly, so I must get back to your chamber." The young midwife patted his cheek. "I'll call for you very soon."

She was already back in his quarters when Percival realized he had no idea if the first twin was a boy or a girl. Regardless, the baby had a good set of lungs.

"Those cries are a sign of excellent health," said Gwaine.

Percival relaxed a little. "You're right."

"It's a girl," said Rion. "I know it. Only girls can make that much noise. I wonder if there will be _two_ girls!"

Rion grinned and danced around the hallway. From the beginning, Rion had been clear he wanted a new baby sister. He never articulated why, but Percival knew it was because he missed Dee so much. Rion wanted another chance to be a big brother.

"Let's go back to my room..." said Gwaine.

"No!" Percival and Rion chorused.

Gwaine's eyes widened. "Right. We'll… stand here."

Together, Percival and Rion paced up and down the hall, both with their hands clasped behind their backs. The baby had stopped wailing, but let out a whine now and again. However, Fleur was silent. Assuming that portended awful things, Percival debated forcing his way into his own chamber. He stretched out his arms, seriously considering enacting his plan of smashing down his door, when a shriek of: "Dear gods!" rang out from his chamber. Percival swore it was so loud the stone floor shook. He held his breath, and several moments later, there was a new baby's cry, a little different from the first, slightly higher-pitched, but strong.

There was much muttering from behind the door, and unable to help himself, Percival pressed his ear to the wood. He could not make out the words, but no one sounded panicked or upset. In fact, the midwife and Fleur were laughing. Surely, no one was dead or dying if they laughed. After more movement in the chamber, the door opened. Percival ended up falling into the room, right onto his face.

"Gracious, Sir Percival!" The young midwife covered her chest with her hand. "Are you all right?"

Embarrassed by his dramatic entrance and red-faced, he awkwardly scrambled to his feet. "Never mind me, I'm fine."

Percival rushed toward the birthing bed. He would not tell Fleur this, but she had never looked worse. Her hair, soaked with sweat, was tied up in a haphazard and tangled knot. And he had never seen a living human that pale, nor with darker circles beneath her eyes. When he made it to the bedside, he noticed she had burst blood vessels on her cheek, which he presumed was from the strain of giving birth. She had gone through all this for him and their babies. He fell to his knees beside the bed and grabbed her hand.

"Are you all right, my love?" he asked.

She took a deep breath, then turned to him and beamed. "I'm wonderful. We have two girls."

Percival covered his mouth with his free hand and gasped. "We do?"

"Yes, Sir Percival," said the young midwife, as she tended to the babies off in the corner. "Your precious girls are just fine. I'm cleaning them up and will hand them over. Your wife lost a good amount of blood, but I've sent for a pitcher of ale and a bowl of liver and onions. That will help build up her strength."

"I hate liver and onions," whispered Fleur, still smiling.

Percival patted her hand. "You must do as the midwife says."

The midwife approached, carrying two pink bundles. "All right, Sir Percival. Have a seat and meet your girls."

Percival slid into the bedside chair and allowed the midwife to situate the babies in his arms. He gazed down at the infants' perfect, unblemished faces. They had round, plump cheeks and pink bow-shaped lips. The girls had little hair, but the fuzzy smattering of curls was light blond. At once, and with a whimper, they both opened their eyes, which were gray-blue, like his. When Percival saw this, he could not stop his tears from flowing. These were _his_ girls, these beautiful creatures small enough to fit in the crook of his arm. From that very moment, he knew he would love and protect them for all of his days.

"Hello?" Rion took a tentative step into the room. "Is it all right for me to come in?"

"Son!" Fleur patted the bed next to her. "Sit next to me. You'll hold the babies next."

Rion clambered onto the bed. "Are you all right, Mum?"

"Exhausted, but fine, I promise."

"I was worried about you." Rion rested his head on her shoulder.

The midwife stepped out of the room and closed the door, Percival assumed to give him and his now-expanded family time to bond. But now it was up to him to carefully hand over his precious girls to Rion, and he was terrified or hurting or dropping them. He took slow, careful steps to the other side of the bed. Once he reached Rion's side, Percival sighed with relief.

"All right," said Percival, "lean back against the pillows and put your hands in your lap. I'll put the babies in your arms."

Rion did not seem the least bit fearful, and did exactly as asked. Once he held the warm bundles, his new sisters, tears ran down his cheeks, too.

"What are their names?" asked Rion, smiling down at his tiny new siblings. "You picked out only one girl's name, but now we have two."

That was true. Fleur had suggested they name a daughter Deena, as a way to honor Dee, Rion's deceased sister, and Percival thought that was an ideal name. But he had no ideas for another name.

"I hadn't mentioned this name before, but I also like Ida for a girl. And it reminds me of Idele, your mum's name," said Fleur.

"Deena and Ida," whispered Rion. "My two sisters."

Percival scooted onto the bed and collected one infant. "How will we decide which baby gets which name? And how will we tell who's who?"

"See that?" Fleur pulled back the blanket on the baby Rion held. "She has a tiny brown birthmark on her collarbone. That's how we'll know at first. Though in time, I am sure we won't have to look at the mark."

"Can we name this baby Dee and the one Father's holding Ida?" asked Rion.

"Fine with me if it's all right with your father."

Percival nodded. "Of course."

The babies grew fussy, and Fleur told Percival and Rion she needed to nurse. The midwife swept in as if called, asking the men to leave the room for a little while.

"Wait." Rion leaned down and kissed each sister on the forehead. "I will protect you and be a good big brother to you always, I swear it."

The midwife shooed Percival and Rion out of the room. In the corridor stood Gwaine, Merlin, and Leon, holding up tankards and cheering. They handed over extra tankards to Percival and Rion, all while shouting their congratulations.

"I watered Rion's wine," Gwaine muttered to Percival, before they sipped.

"Thank you, everyone. I'm glad you're here," said Percival.

Merlin patted Percival on the back. "Tell us all about them!"

"Well, we have twin girls, Ida and Deena. They're beautiful and healthy. And after rest and food, Fleur will be fine, too."

"What good news," said Leon.

"Wait…" Percival narrowed his eyes. "The girls were wrapped in fine pink blankets. Very fluffy. Where did they come from?"

Gwaine laughed. "From me! I had them specially made, four of them. Remember on your first day of training as a knight all those years ago, when I knocked you out and you babbled nonsense about a fluffy pink blanket when you woke? Now you and your girls have four of them to enjoy!"

"And if they'd been boys?"

Gwaine shrugged. "Could have used them for the dog, I suppose."

Percival was not cross. In fact, he laughed right along with Gwaine. Now that his family had grown, Percival recognized what was important in life, friendship, loyalty, and love. It seemed so much easier to laugh about past mishaps.

After Percival spent a few more moments drinking and chatting with his friends, he and Rion bid the men a good night, and slipped back into their chamber. Deena and Ida must have finished nursing, because Fleur lay back with her eyes closed. The babies were swaddled in their cradle, quiet for the moment. However, Percival realized while one cradle was fine for the girls while they were so tiny, he would need a second one soon.

"Father?" Rion tugged Percival's sleeve. "I'm tired. May I go to bed?"

"Of course. Goodnight, son."

Rion peered into his sisters' cradle, smiled, then shuffled off to bed, drawing the privacy curtain behind him. Although the babies would cry during the night, Rion could sleep through a near riot, so Percival was not worried about the boy getting enough rest.

There was a bit of commotion for a while. Cook brought in a pitcher of ale and mugs, as well as a heaping bowl of liver smothered in onions. The midwife woke Fleur and insisted she drink and eat at least a few mouthfuls. Fleur grimaced at the odiferous food, but ate and drank.

While Fleur fortified herself, the midwife bombarded Percival with instructions about the twins' care. Once she finished her lengthy speech about the babies, she told him about Fleur's needs. By the end of the lecture, Percival was certain his ineptitude would kill his entire family.

"Sir Percival, as long as everyone is breathing and eating, they'll be fine," said the young midwife, gathering up her bag and equipment. "Don't worry yourself too much. And I'm right at the edge of the Lower Town, should you have questions or need help."

"Can I call on you at any time?" he asked desperately.

She patted his arm. "Any time."

Before he had the chance to beg her to stay, she was gone, and Fleur had fallen back asleep. The room was eerily quiet, and Percival panicked, terrified the babies were not breathing. He all but dove for the raised cradle, and placed his hands against his daughters' chests. They were breathing just fine. In fact, with peaceful, half-smiles on their faces, they cooed as they slept.

Banon, who Percival realized had been asleep on Rion's bed all this time, padded over. She wagged her tail, positioned herself next to the cradle, as if protecting the babies, then dozed off again.

This seemed like it would be the right time to rest, but before Percival tried to lie down, he needed to hold his daughters one more time. With care – and less terror coursing through him – he gathered the babies into his arms and sat down. Their tiny, warm bodies wriggled against him and they sighed.

"Another perfect moment," whispered Percival.

Surrounded by his sleeping family, and his heart full of love, Percival thought back to that day two summers ago when Rion had stumbled onto the training field. That moment had been the start of a wonderful journey, full of crushing lows and soaring highs, and he would not change a thing.

Sir Percival, Knight of Camelot, was a blessed man, indeed.


	31. Epilogue

Epilogue

_A little more than ten years later…_

At the edge of the castle training field, bathed by the rays of a waning autumn sun, Percival reached for Fleur's hand as they waited for the knighting ceremony to begin. Deena and Ida, their girls, sat in the grass, vibrating with excitement. Banon lay down between them, basking in the glory of belly rubs, as the dog always did. It seemed impossible that the girls were ten and Banon was almost eleven. Hadn't they come into Percival and Fleur's life only yesterday?

A cool afternoon breeze kissed Percival's face, and with that, he gazed at the sparse clouds above and recalled the past. He was almost thirty-three, and somehow, the past seemed closer than ever.

So much had happened during the past decade.

When Deena and Ida turned one, Percival and Gwaine, on a mission in Ismere, had been captured and forced into slavery by Morgana. That was a dark and frightening time for Percival and Gwaine, yet eventually, Merlin and King Arthur rescued them. Percival recalled his homecoming, when Fleur – carrying the twins in her arms – Rion, and Banon charged from the castle and ran to him, sobbing with joy. Rion all but pulled Percival from his horse, and Percival and his family stood outside in the downpour, reunited and grateful. He had never felt more loved than in that moment.

Further, Arthur had managed to negotiate peace with King Odin, and Camelot and Cornwall had not warred in years.

Regardless, there had been more dark times.

Less than a year later, the epic Battle of Camlann took place, where King Arthur and his knights faced Morgana in a terrific and terrifying fight. Camelot's army killed Morgana and defeated her Saxon supporters, but King Arthur lay on the field, dying. Arthur's wounds appeared so grave there seemed to be no way he could survive them; thus, Leon, Percival, and Gwaine fell to the ground beside Arthur and comforted him, telling him they would stay with him until the end.

Yet as Arthur breathed what everyone assumed was his final shuddering gasp, Merlin appeared out of nowhere. _Riding a dragon_.

Percival could not entirely recall what occurred next, exactly how Merlin healed Arthur, because the presence of a massive, winged dragon standing only a few paces away shocked the sense out of Percival. Percival vaguely remembered Merlin incanting spells and the dragon breathing a cold blue fire onto the king. Arthur lay still and pale, not breathing for what seemed like an eternity. Just when all hope was lost, the king sat up and inhaled a sudden sharp breath.

The knights cheered over their king's revival from the brink of death, but Arthur was furious Merlin had never mentioned his magical abilities. Arthur took the years of Merlin's silence as a betrayal of their friendship. Reluctantly, Arthur allowed Merlin to return to Camelot, but not to the castle.

After their return home as heroes, Gwaine and Percival confessed to Arthur they had known that Merlin was a sorcerer for quite some time. Both Gwaine and Percival found themselves relieved of their duties as knights forthwith. Arthur told them he would have a decision within three days whether or not Merlin, Percival, and Gwaine would all be banished.

It was the longest three days of Percival's life.

Percival prepared for the worst. He and Fleur started packing up their chambers and tried to figure out where they would live. Deena and Ida did nothing but cry, and Rion sulked. Percival felt like a total failure for the drastic upheaval he was causing his family, but Fleur understood. Someone needed to support Merlin, who had done nothing more than use his magic for good for years and years.

On the third day, Percival, who braced himself for news of his permanent banishment from Camelot, met with Arthur, Guinevere, Gwaine, and Merlin in King Arthur's solar.

"I have given this a great deal of thought," said Arthur, pacing, "and I have listened to Guinevere's sound counsel. No one is to be banished. I hope you'll forgive my initial reaction to the reality that you're a sorcerer, Merlin, and a damn powerful one. As you can imagine, I was utterly shocked to discover that. But as you said, you've used your powers only for good. I see that now. You are trustworthy and have always been, as are Percival and Gwaine."

Percival, Merlin, and Gwaine sank back in their seats, loud sighs of relief falling from their lips.

Guinevere took over. "At my insistence, magic will be legalized here in Camelot. However, it cannot be as it was years and years ago, with magic used indiscriminately and without regulation. We have seen what magic can do, much of it good, but it can also be a force of evil when one abuses power. And that's where you come in, Merlin."

Merlin sat up straight. "Me?"

"Yes. You will hold the title of Court Sorcerer. You, Arthur, and I will develop laws governing the use of magic, and it will be your job to enforce them. Do you accept?"

"Oh, I accept," said Merlin immediately. "Just this morning I thought I'd spend the rest of my life living in a rat hole. Court Sorcerer doesn't sound so bad."

The transition was shaky, legalizing magic, and to this day, there were still abuses and problems, but as Guinevere said, the good outweighed the bad.

The sound of a trumpet blast, announcing the knighting ceremony would start soon, brought Percival back to the present. Merlin, wearing his fine, deep-blue formal robes, stood right behind the king and queen. Percival could not stop himself from smiling. When Percival looked at Merlin, Percival saw a powerful wizard, but also a wonderful friend, albeit a gangly one who still occasionally tripped over his own two feet.

On Percival's left stood Leon. Leon had never married, yet of late, he'd begun spending much of his free time with an attractive young midwife apprentice. In fact, she stood beside Leon and gazed at him adoringly.

"They're not fooling anyone," Percival whispered to Fleur.

"I know."

Unfortunately, Elyan never returned from his mission to the Western Isles, but for a good reason – he met a princess with whom he fell in love and married.

"Percival?" Gwaine dropped an arm around Percival's shoulder. "I'm ravenous. So is Anaed. Do you think Arthur can hurry up so we can eat?" Gwaine eyed the lavishly decorated feast tables which sat under tents in the distance. "And what are they serving? Duck? Because I like a good roast duck…"

"Me, too, Uncle Gwaine and Aunt Anaed!" announced Ida with a smile. "I love roast duck."

Percival slapped away Gwaine's arm. "Gwaine, I don't know when or what we'll be eating. My son's getting knighted today. Can I just focus on that?"

"Don't get testy with me! I know my nephew Rion's dying for a good meal, too."

Gwaine stuck out his tongue and walked back to his wife, Anaed. Gwaine and Anaed married a year after Percival and Fleur. After an entire year of will-they-or-won't-they and much drama, Gwaine and Anaed ran off and wed in secret. They had no children, but were very much in love and like a second set of parents to Rion, Deena, and Ida.

Anaed had stopped working at the brothel the day of Percival and Fleur's wedding, and had turned out to be one of the wealthiest women in Camelot. She developed a scented hair tonic for women that had grown so popular, Anaed earned more money than she knew what to do with. Overwhelmed, Anaed turned to Fleur for help, and the two of them set up a charity for women struggling in Camelot. Mostly, they focused on helping widows and women with illnesses and disabilities, but they also set aside funds to help women in need become self-sufficient. Thus, Camelot was more of a "Golden City" than ever, a place of compassion and prosperity, much of that thanks to the perseverance and kindness of a former prostitute, one of the finest women Percival had ever known. And for a woman to put up with Gwaine's antics all these years, she had to be pretty special.

Deena tipped her head back and looked up at Percival. "Father? Ida and I are going to be knights, too."

"But maybe princesses," said Ida. "Or singers. Or we could be warrior princesses. What do you think of that, Deena? Warrior Princesses?"

"Warrior princesses who sing!"

Percival chuckled. Those were his daughters, a unique combination of fierce and sweet. "Settle down, girls. The ceremony will start any time now."

Percival gazed into the distance, and his eyes locked with King Arthur. Arthur acknowledged him with a nod and a smile; the king was the picture of perfect health, for which Percival was grateful. Merlin, whose skills as a seer had grown over time, declared Arthur would die at Camlann, the _Second_ Battle of Camlann, which would take place when Arthur turned sixty-three. That was almost thirty years away, so Arthur had plenty of time to enjoy life with Guinevere, and their two boys, Llacheu and Duran.

"I want the ceremony to start soon!" declared Deena. "Big brother is going to be a knight! I can't wait. And he said he'd give us sword lessons starting next month. I'll remind him of that right after the ceremony."

"Maybe you should wait until tomorrow," said Fleur kindly.

Another trumpet blast rang out, and the men to be knighted proceeded out onto the field, all eight of them. Rion stood at the end of the line, his shoulders back, standing tall, with his long, dark hair tied back with a leather thong. At seventeen, he had grown more strapping and taller than Percival had ever thought possible. This strong, broad-shouldered young man before him had once been a skinny and frightened child after the loss of his birth family, but look at him now. He was everything a knight should be, deliberate, smart, bold, and kind. And Rion handled a sword better than any man Percival knew.

Rion's sleeve inched up, and Percival spotted the red hemp bracelet he had given Rion for his seventh birthday. The thing was frayed and sun-bleached, but Rion never removed it. The sight of the old gift reminded Percival of his eternal bond with Rion. Gods, the ceremony hadn't even really started, and Percival already fought tears.

As Rion moved forward, his new knight's cloak swished, and Percival caught sight of the falcon feather Fleur had sewn into the bottom hem of the material. That was the feather Merlin had given Rion long ago. Rion often insisted, "This thing brings me better luck than a rabbit's foot!" It remained one of Rion's favorite tokens, although it was now bent and tattered.

"Please form a line before me," King Arthur said to the new knights, and they took their places. When they spun to face the crowd of onlookers, Rion winked at his sisters.

"People of Camelot, today, I present eight fine men who have earned the right to be called Knights of Camelot," said Arthur. "Thus, without further delay, each shall be knighted. Men, please go to your knees."

Arthur worked his way down the line, knighting each man by dubbing him on the shoulders with a sword. Rion was the last man to be knighted.

"Arise, Sir Rion, Knight of Camelot."

Hearing those words, Percival could not hold back his tears, nor could Fleur. Even Gwaine sniffled and wiped at his eyes. Such pride filled Percival, he wondered if his heart might burst.

Arthur said a few more words about honor and chivalry, and about how the men before him had demonstrated tremendous dedication, perseverance, and loyalty, and he was honored to call them his knights.

Suddenly, the ceremony ended, and the new knights strode off and sought out their family and friends. Except in Rion's case, because Banon sought _him_ out. She hopped up and bolted across the field as if she was a puppy. At a flying leap, the huge, gray-muzzled deerhound launched herself into her master's arms. Stumbling back, Rion caught her.

"Banon, you beast!" said Rion with a laugh. "You'll never slow down, old lady."

Rion carried Banon over to his family and placed her down next to his sisters.

"Can we spar with quarterstaffs later?" Ida asked.

"Ida, the first thing you should do is congratulate your brother on his incredible accomplishment," said Percival.

"Congratulations! But can we spar later?"

"Yes, dearest sisters." He ruffled their hair. "But go easy on me; I've had a long day."

"Do you _really_ have to move out?" asked Deena, frowning. "Why can't you stay with us?"

Percival felt the same way as his daughters. He wanted to cling to Rion, beg him to ask the king to make an exception and allow Rion to stay in his family's quarters in the castle instead of moving into the new knights' wing. But that would be a ridiculous and selfish request – Rion was supposed to grow up and move on. He needed to.

"Girls, I'll live two floors down and you can visit any time you like. And believe me, I'll spend loads of my off-time with you. Being stuffed into a bedchamber the size of a thimble with three other men will grow tiresome, I'm sure. And I have decided that Banon can stay with you."

The girls cheered and hugged the dog.

"Are you sure?" asked Percival.

"Very. She's getting older and I'll be busy and training so much. She deserves to have all the love and attention the girls will lavish on her." He rubbed Banon's head. "But she's still my beast and I will visit her all the time, and sometimes take her out on short missions."

Gwaine, Anaed, Leon, and Fleur rushed Rion and hugged him, all babbling their congratulations and how proud they were. Finally, the girls declared they were bored and "dying of hunger," so Fleur ushered them over to one of the feast tables. Gwaine, Anaed, and Leon followed, leaving Rion and Percival alone.

"Those sisters of yours," said Percival, shaking his head. "Wanting to be knights and all…"

"I don't know about women becoming knights, but women are warriors, regardless of title."

Percival watched his wife and girls approach the table. Lila and Lew were seated there already. They were twelve now, and great friends with Ida and Deena. And "Little Lila" wasn't so little anymore; she'd turned into a tall beauty. Percival still recalled when she was a toddler, had called him "Sir Purple," and shook her fist at him. How times had changed.

And beside them sat Angan, still Rion's best friend. Angan was the new Kennel Master, and did a wonderful job caring for and training the dogs and puppies. His gentle nature made him an excellent fit for the job.

There was an empty seat at the table, though, the one where Gaius should have sat. He had passed on the previous year and everyone missed him.

"I'm thinking of them today," said Rion suddenly. "I always think of them."

Percival did not need to ask whom. Idele, Dee, and Rion's father were there in spirit. Percival felt it, too.

"Father?" Rion's voice wavered a touch. "All I've wanted to do is make you proud. I hope I have."

"Oh, how could you question that, Rion? You've done nothing but make me proud since the moment I met you."

Percival's hand went to his sword hilt. Just as he had once dreamed, it was time to hand over his personal sword to Rion, a tradition when a man's son received knighthood. Percival withdrew the gleaming, refurbished weapon from the scabbard and placed it in Rion's hands. Rion stared at the sword and his lips trembled.

"I-I'm sorry," stammered Percival, concerned he'd upset his son. "Maybe you wanted your father's sword. I didn't think…"

Rion cocked his head to the side and appeared genuinely confused. "But you're my father and this is your sword. It's just… I'm overwhelmed by the gesture. You must have spent so much on its restoration. It's incredible. Thank you." He sheathed the blade. "But how could you _ever_ doubt for even a moment that you are my father?" Rion grabbed Percival and crushed him in a tight embrace.

"I know, son. I love you."

"And I love you, too, Father."

Rion stepped back and glanced toward the tables. His gaze fixed on a gorgeous young woman with wild red curls, Tilah, who had moved into the castle a few months earlier. The eighteen-year-old was a master bowyer hired by King Arthur to design and create much-needed bows for Camelot's archers. Tilah always wore trousers, like a man, and never apologized for being bold and outspoken. Percival's girls idolized Tilah, and clearly, Rion was smitten. Perhaps more.

Rion adjusted his hair tie and smoothed his hands over his tunic. "Excuse me, Father, I need to speak to someone."

"Go on." Percival held back his grin. "We'll eat together soon."

Rion strode toward Tilah. When he made it to her side, she looked up, affecting a bored expression at first, but the genuine adoration in her eyes was impossible to miss. Rion and Tilah exchanged words and tender glances, which reminded Percival of something Merlin had said long ago:

_"_ _You'll face challenges, like all men, Percival, but you are going to lead a long and happy life. I see you bald, with children and grandchildren at your feet."_

Percival had the sense that the first grandchildren at his feet would be Rion and Tilah's. The two of them wandered to the feast table and took their seats.

Overcome with emotion, Percival regarded his family and friends with a sense of wonder as he sauntered toward them. He allowed his gaze to linger on his wife, his son, and daughters. When he drew his last breath, hopefully many years from now, there would be only one thought on his mind – gratitude. Percival's family had given his life meaning and taught him how to love and be loved unconditionally. No greater gift existed.

With a sigh of contentment, he reached his chair, sat down, and took Fleur's hand. He kissed her knuckles, then placed her hand over his heart. Neither of them spoke, but they both mouthed, _I love you_ at the same moment.

Right then, Sir Percival, Knight of Camelot, was certain the best of life was yet to come. How incredible.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I am actually writing these words, but this brings us to the end of "Sir Percival's Choices." Really, this is a story about love, all the different kinds (familial, romantic, and brotherly/sisterly), and how that love can find us when we're least expecting it.
> 
> Ever since I watched "Merlin," I felt Sir Percival deserved his own story, and the characters here will always be near and dear to my heart. I have ideas about possible sequels or spin-offs, but I can't make any promises about those just yet, as much as I wish I could.
> 
> Further, I finished posting this story in October of 2016, but whenever you came across this story, I want to let you know I appreciate the fact you took time out of your schedule to give this a read. I am still learning so much about writing, and I appreciate your patience with any blunders I have made, and I will endeavor to keep learning and improving.
> 
> However, I would be remiss if I did not once again thank my devoted readers and reviewers for their ongoing support. Your feedback and kindness made sharing this story an incredible experience, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are a kind, generous, wonderful group. Just the kind of people Percival would love. I know it.
> 
> May good fortune find you always.


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